After eating and drinking I followed my normal routine and tried to get some rest. At CP5 the sleeping area was a darkened hall. I took my mat and sleeping bag into the hall and prepared to get some, if not sleep, at least some rest. Someone in the hall was snoring very loudly. As I laid down my last thoughts were ‘I’ll never get any sleep with that rac…..’
I awoke to my alarm and packed up my things for the last time. Previously I had tried to put things back into my drop bag in some sort of order but this time it really didn’t matter – I wasn’t planning on opening it again before I was back home in Essex. Last breakfast (porridge, I think), last coffee, last kit check and, at 2:30 on Friday morning, I set out into the unknown.
The first mile and a half presented a slight navigational challenge as I was walking through Bellingham. It wasn’t difficult but I had to keep a careful eye on my GPS to avoid taking the wrong road. Eventually I left Bellingham and turned on to the kind of moorland I was expecting. The path was still fairly dry, even if the sheep were taking no chances and appeared to be crowded on the higher ground.
I was only a couple of hours into the final leg and already I knew it was going to be a long day. By the time I reached Hareshaw House, about four miles in, the trail crossed a tarmac drive. I took the opportunity to put my pack down and lay down on the road to try and stretch my back, a manoeuvre I would be repeating throughout the last leg.
I didn’t really have much idea what to expect from the final leg of the Spine Race. I knew a short section of the Pennine Way around the Cheviot from having done the Cheviot Goat Race earlier in the year but the section from CP5 to CP5.5 was completely unknown. My hope was that it would be reasonably straightforward. My hope wasn’t completely in vain. Sections through heather were a little awkward simply due to the path being a narrow groove obscured by vegetation. Eventually I started to enter Redesdale Forest and back to my favourite scenery – not – plantations!
After seemingly endless plantation roads I eventually arrived at CP5.5 at Blakehopeburnhaugh. By now I was leaning heavily and in quite a bit of discomfort. However this was another one of those occasions when the volunteers and marshals would work their magic and keep me going. John Bamber shared all his knowledge of back stretching gained from his own back problems, the medic (sorry, I never got her name) asked what pain relief I had taken and deemed it safe to give me another codeine tablet. One of the other volunteers (again, I didn’t get a name – sorry) lived in the area and was able give me a good impression of what my next task would be like – the ascent of Byrness Hill. I ate most of my freeze dried meal, had a couple of cups of coffee and prepared to set off. The checkpoint had a board showing me exactly what I had left to do: 10 miles to Hut One, 9 miles to Hut Two, 7 miles to Kirk Yetholm, about a marathon left in total.
Sometimes, when things are tough, someone says or does just the right thing to give you the self belief you need. As I left CP5.5 John Bamber walked out with me, clapped me on the shoulder, shook my hand, and said he was proud of me. I already knew I wasn’t going to give up but at that moment the thought of failure became impossible.
A couple of miles further down the road I arrived in Byrness. I had been given a good idea of what to expect Byrness Hill to be like, a sharp climb requiring some use of hands to get round some rocks near the top. I noticed a small church with a bench in Byrness and decided to have a look in the churchyard (I like that sort of thing) and to use the bench to stretch out a bit. The bench had a plaque. I don’t remember the name of the person in who’s honour it had been placed but I felt that if he was the sort of man who’s passing his friends would mark by placing a bench in his memory, he was probably the sort of man that wouldn’t mind me using it to try and prepare myself for the next stage of my journey.
Byrness Hill didn’t prove too much of a challenge as it was quite dry. I suspect it is quite a different story in the winter. I passed through a gate which had a lot of interesting information on it. I was too far gone to really understand any of it – apart from the fact I wasn’t likely to get shot, which was nice, and that there was still 24 miles to go, which wasn’t so nice but not a surprise – so I photographed it to read later.
By now it was getting very hot and sunny. A few runners passed me along the border, although we all seemed to stop at various points and rest. I fell asleep at least once in the sunshine so had little idea who was ahead and who was behind me. To be honest at his point there were few things that mattered less. My immediate focus was simply on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to reach Hut One.
After what seemed like forever Hut One came into view. I was able to lie down on a bench and stretch my back. I wasn’t due any more pharmaceutical pain relief but the medic did offer ‘interpretive dance’ as a service to another runner in the hut at the same time as me and also in pain. I settled for biscuits and coffee.
The weather took a turn for the worse and by the time I was ready to leave the hut it was definitely raining so I put my waterproof on. In some ways I was almost glad the weather had become worse, I now felt I was getting a proper Spine Race experience, even after the rain stopped, the cloud remained and the path ahead started to disappear into the mist.
Unfortunately even the worsening weather wasn’t sufficient to take my mind off the worsening pain in my back. I never run with music but I must admit I was now wishing I had something, anything, else to focus on. I possibly should have focussed a little more on where I was as at some point I had ended up in Scotland instead of England. I was on a path and the path followed the border fence, just on the Scottish side. The big difference was that when I looked over the fence, I saw the ‘English’ path had flagstones! Once I was on the paved path I started counting flagstones to take my mind off how slow my progress was. After Windy Gyle the next major point on my journey would be the left turn of the shoulder of the Cheviot down to Hut Two. I didn’t know how far Hut Two was from there – I had made the error of not marking the huts on my GPS files – but I knew it was at least downhill.
As I was slowly making my way down from the Cheviot, I was caught by Andrea. She could see I was in trouble and asked if she could help. I thanked her but said that, no, there wasn’t really anything anyone could do, I’d just got to get on with it. She said in that case she would let them know at the hut that I was in trouble and they would perhaps come and meet me. Then she set off in what to me appeared to be the wrong direction but shortly after I saw her on what I thought was the correct path so either I was wrong (very possibly, I was starting to see things) or she realised her error.
The light was failing and, although I could still see well enough to pick my way down, I thought it might be a good idea to put my head torch on anyway just in case anyone came looking for me. Fatigue and hope lead to me seeing all sorts of lights in the distance, practically none of which existed I’m sure. However after a while the lights were accompanied by voices. My poles and pack were taken from me (I questioned whether someone else could carry my pack but was told it was part of my assessment – this was in fact true, one of the things they wanted to know was how much effect the pack was having on my lean and my back problem) and I was lead the final half a mile or so to Hut Two.
The fact is that every single medic, marshal and volunteer on the Spine Race is an incredible human being who’s main focus is on making sure that everyone that can finish safely does so. However because of that they all seem to be superhuman people that pick you up and set you back ready for the next bit. The idea of DNFing at Hut Two, seven miles from the finish, didn’t bear thinking about. Spine HQ obviously agreed as, knowing that I was struggling, they agreed that I should be held at Hut Two until first light to give my back some rest and to allow the various painkillers I’d taken to work through and let me start again in the morning. I have managed to find out the names of the team at Hut Two so I can give huge thanks to Theo (medic), Alex and John for sorting me out so that I could continue on my way.
Early Saturday morning I was dressed in my waterproofs, warm hat, gloves and mid-layer. This was the first time I’d needed them all but does vindicate the kit list as I did need them all, at least at the start of my final assault on the Pennine Way.
There was only one final obstacle between me and Kirk Yetholm – The Schil. The Schil isn’t a massive hill but it is still a sting in the tail of the Pennine Way. At Hut Two I was told it was a grassy slope up and a slightly steeper rockier slope down. I decided this was probably the way I’d prefer it at this stage. Obviously the Schil was what it was and couldn’t care less what I preferred but it was good to try and be positive. I was rewarded for my early start by a magnificent sunrise. Unfortunately with all my kit on I wasn’t able to take a picture but it lifted my spirits anyway. After a while I’d conquered the Schil and felt confident I would make it to Kirk Yetholm – it was just going to take a long time.
As I was coming down I could see that I would be out of the shadow of the hill and in the sunshine. My watch was complaining it was out of battery, I needed a break and to take some clothes off so I decided that as soon as I hit the sun I would rest for 15 minutes and charge my watch up. I called Spine HQ to let them know. The rules say you don’t have to do this unless you are stopping for more than an hour but I was fairly sure my dot would be being watched very closely, given they knew my physical state, and I didn’t want to give any cause for alarm. They very kindly said if I hadn’t moved after half an hour they would phone me as I would probably have fallen asleep.
After my break I carried on down and reached the Scottish Border! I climbed to the top of the stile and announced ‘I’M IN SCOTLAND!’ as loudly as I could. No one heard apart from the sheep.
The path became a road and I lay down to stretch my back. A lovely lady in a Landrover carefully drove round me and asked if I as alright. I assured her I was and thanked her for her concern. From here on it was just a case of walking and stretching, my poles slamming into the tarmac with every step. Fortunately I was ready for the hill into Kirk Yetholm so I just marched up it as the village came into view – I didn’t even stop on Anne’s Bench at the top.
Suddenly I could see the finish! I started to run, well a fast stagger anyway, towards the arches, an untidy mess of flailing limbs, some sort of weird parody of a finish line celebration.
I made it to the arches, tripped, fell, collapsed, I’m not sure which….
…until Sharon came over and pointed out I had several yards to go to the Border Hotel wall and the real finish. I got up and quickly made my way to the wall and gave it a kiss, and another, just to be sure.
There were many volunteers at the finish to cheer me on, who then looked extremely confused by my desperation to get into my backpack. In November last year my Father-in-Law passed away. In his last days he was looked after fantastically well by Marie Curie Nurses and the ACCORD Hospice. I am raising money for both these organisations, if you would like to support me donations can be made at:
https://donate.giveasyoulive.com/fundraising/colins-summer-spine-race
Archie was a proper Scot who liked a wee dram. I had been carrying a small hip flask of his favourite whisky, Ballantines, from Edale in order to drink a toast to him on the finish line. I also raised a toast to Hut Two and everyone else that had got me to the finish.
So we come to the end of my Pennine Journey. Some of you will have been with me since the beginning a year ago, some will have joined on the way and some will only just have become aware of my endeavour. The question is – is that it? Well, in one way yes, I set out to use what I learned from last year and to complete the Summer spine Race 2022 and that I have done. Will I ever do a Spine Race again? I think many of you will realise having read my blogs, I don’t rate the Pennine Way as a particularly wonderful path to follow. It has amazing highs and some fairly dismal lows. However the thing that might bring me back is the Spine atmosphere, it’s very hard to describe but an often used phrase in the Official Spine Facebook Group is ‘Those that know, know’. I’ve always said I would never do the Winter Spine. Having done the Summer Spine I’m fairly sure I couldn’t do the Winter Spine. However 2023 is sold out anyway but 2024? Maybe…
All that is left to do is to thank everyone involved in my Pennine Journey. All the Spine organisers, volunteers, marshals, medics, safety teams, all my fellow competitors and of course all of you that followed my dot, sent me a message, sponsored me, or just wished me well, thank you all. The final and biggest thank-you has to be reserved for Sharon though, from picking up a stinking mess at the end of last years race to being there at the finish of this years, without her constant and unwavering support there would have been no ‘Pennine Journey’ – Thank you and I love you forever x
The Only Way Is Pennine... 