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| Captain Eric |
In 1990, I had arranged for the annual UK Council NALGO-sponsored cross-country championship to come to Scotland for the first time. I was the chair of Strathclyde Runners, a Council club for the 100,000 employees, and we organised half a dozen events each year. The UK Council championship was held in Strathclyde Park with the reception and prize-giving at the Strathclyde Offices in Hamilton. The Council Convenor, Bill Perry, was to provide some hospitality, and as always, he was delighted to support the Running Club in its ventures.
We surprised ourselves by winning the team prize against several hundred runners from Councils all over the UK. Keith Adams, a roads engineer who had recently joined SRC, had been in the team and approached me afterwards to ask if I would be interested in competing in the Island Three Peaks race with him. Keith was a committed hill runner and had competed in the event on three previous occasions. He lent me a video to explain the nature of the event, which was pretty full-on.
The race involves yachts with 3 sailors and 2 runners. It starts in Oban with a 5 mile run before a Le Mans style dinghy race from the north beach to the yachts, a sail down the Sound of Mull to Salen, a 19 mile run to Ben More and back, followed by a long overnight sail to Jura past the Corrievreckin to Craighouse, the start for an 18 mile run around the Paps of Jura. This is followed by a long sail down and around the Mull of Kintyre to the Isle of Arran, where a final 20-mile run to Brodick and Goat Fell and back before the final sprint across the Firth of Clyde to Troon. It normally takes two to three days, depending on the winds and tides, as well as the navigation of the yachts and the masochism of the runners. It involves about 12 hours of running over 60 miles of running and 10,000 feet of ascent.
I watched the video with growing anxiety. I had run five marathons and four mountain marathons and had recently started climbing the munros so I had some experience, but this was at a different level. I explained to Keith that he would be better supported if he could find another victim, but he was fairly insistent that I could manage it. Never being one to refuse a challenge, I signed up. I was in reasonable shape, but arranged a few longer hill runs with Keith and Matt Ogston, another hill running friend, who was also competing in the race. We had an 18-mile run from Aberfoyle to Ben Lomond and back one evening after work, and I also managed a PB and what would have been a Strava Crown for my regular run up Lime Craig. Two weekends before the race, John and I caught an evening train from Crianlarich to Fersit and did an overnight walk to Fort William over the Easains and Grey Corries to build up my hill stamina and get some experience of night navigation.
The weekend of the race saw Keith, Matt, and me board the Oban train on Friday afternoon. Keith and I stayed at the house of Eric Chapman, the skipper of Seasmoke of Lorne, a 27-foot yacht that was one of the smallest in the race. Eric was the Commodore of the Oban Yacht Club and had competed in the race before and knew the sea conditions well. The two other crew members were from Edinburgh and had sailed with Keith on his previous Island Peaks races.
It was a grey Friday as the race began at midday on the sound of a gun for a 5-mile road run along the Sound of Kerrrera and back. Keith and I were reasonably well-matched. I was the faster road runner; we climbed at a similar pace, but he was faster on the descents and over rougher ground, when I was more cautious because of a broken leg held together by titanium screws. We finished the leg at Oban's north beach, where we jumped into our dinghy to be rowed out to the yacht. We had made good time and were in the first ten out of the 56 starting teams. I had paced Keith; we wanted to make a decent time to gain clean air for the yacht, but not to tire us too much, given that we had 19 miles of running on Mull ahead of us.
We lost quite a few places to the larger yachts and catamarans sailing up the Sound in a steady breeze and berthed at Salen just after 5pm. We were straight into the run behind Jack Maitland and Alan Farningham, who were to win the race. We also had Christine Menhennet and Helen Diamantides for company, two formidable hill runners who Keith knew from his hill running club. We made a good pace along the 6 kilometres of road from Salen pier to Loch Ba. We stopped here to change into hill running shoes, which lost us a couple of minutes, and the girls had almost caught us as we set off again. It was a slog up the east ridge of A' Chioch, and we contoured below the top to find the steep rocky ridge to the summit of Ben More.
After checking in at the summit, we started the 4-kilometre descent to Dhiseig on Loch na Keal. It was turning into a lovely summer evening with spectacular views. We lost some time to other runners and at the burn by the road as we changed back to road shoes and took some water and food before beginning the long 9 miles back to Salen Pier. Helen and Christine had overtaken us whilst we were changing shoes; they were relentless. I took over the pacing, and by Scarisdale Wood, we had caught and passed them. We were back in Salen in under 4 hours, twenty minutes faster than Keith's previous best time. As we climbed aboard the yacht, we were told that a curry was awaiting us and there were cans of lager if we wanted. I did, and after a feed and some rehydration, we settled down in the bunks for the long sail back down the Sound of Mull and the Firth of Lorne. The wind had died somewhat, so there was little keeling over to disturb our sleep.
We awoke with the yacht becalmed, and for most of Saturday, we made slow progress down to the jetty in Jura. There was some movement passing the Gulf of Corryvreckan. At first, we thought the slow progress would help in that we would have an afternoon run up the Paps of Jura and then be able to sleep as the yacht sailed down and round the Mull of Kintyre. We then began to realise that we may end up in the dark on the Paps. The good news was that it was dry and a reasonably pleasant day. We eventually arrived at Craighouse at about 7pm.
The evening was benign, and although this was the shortest leg at 18 miles, it involved the most climbing over some pretty rough ground with little in the way of paths to help. We ran the first couple of miles from Craighouse and then changed into hill shoes for the climb up the three Paps. The evening just got better and better. By the time we reached the first summit, Beinn a' Chaolais, we were treated to scintillating sea views. We had made good time, and both of us seemed to be going well as we descended 300 metres and then began another 350 metre climb to Beinn an Oir. The official photographer was posed halfway up the craggy ridge, and as we passed him and looked out to sea, I remember thinking that this was probably one of the best moments in my life. I was as fit as I had ever been, travelling fast over tough terrain in the most beautiful wild landscape with a spectacular sunset over the sea.
There was no time for admiring the views from the summit, just another 300 metre descent and climb to the final Pap, Beinn Shiantaidh. The light was fading fast as we headed off the summit to the south and dark for the 6-kilometre run back to the road. We changed shoes and began the final twenty minutes of running back to the jetty at Craighouse. We hollered across to the yacht so they could send a dinghy over to collect us. It was after 11pm had taken over 4 hours, but it had been a successful run, and the welcome we got from the crew on the yacht was positive; we had performed better than they had ever expected.
The weekend of the race saw Keith, Matt, and me board the Oban train on Friday afternoon. Keith and I stayed at the house of Eric Chapman, the skipper of Seasmoke of Lorne, a 27-foot yacht that was one of the smallest in the race. Eric was the Commodore of the Oban Yacht Club and had competed in the race before and knew the sea conditions well. The two other crew members were from Edinburgh and had sailed with Keith on his previous Island Peaks races.
It was a grey Friday as the race began at midday on the sound of a gun for a 5-mile road run along the Sound of Kerrrera and back. Keith and I were reasonably well-matched. I was the faster road runner; we climbed at a similar pace, but he was faster on the descents and over rougher ground, when I was more cautious because of a broken leg held together by titanium screws. We finished the leg at Oban's north beach, where we jumped into our dinghy to be rowed out to the yacht. We had made good time and were in the first ten out of the 56 starting teams. I had paced Keith; we wanted to make a decent time to gain clean air for the yacht, but not to tire us too much, given that we had 19 miles of running on Mull ahead of us.
We lost quite a few places to the larger yachts and catamarans sailing up the Sound in a steady breeze and berthed at Salen just after 5pm. We were straight into the run behind Jack Maitland and Alan Farningham, who were to win the race. We also had Christine Menhennet and Helen Diamantides for company, two formidable hill runners who Keith knew from his hill running club. We made a good pace along the 6 kilometres of road from Salen pier to Loch Ba. We stopped here to change into hill running shoes, which lost us a couple of minutes, and the girls had almost caught us as we set off again. It was a slog up the east ridge of A' Chioch, and we contoured below the top to find the steep rocky ridge to the summit of Ben More.
After checking in at the summit, we started the 4-kilometre descent to Dhiseig on Loch na Keal. It was turning into a lovely summer evening with spectacular views. We lost some time to other runners and at the burn by the road as we changed back to road shoes and took some water and food before beginning the long 9 miles back to Salen Pier. Helen and Christine had overtaken us whilst we were changing shoes; they were relentless. I took over the pacing, and by Scarisdale Wood, we had caught and passed them. We were back in Salen in under 4 hours, twenty minutes faster than Keith's previous best time. As we climbed aboard the yacht, we were told that a curry was awaiting us and there were cans of lager if we wanted. I did, and after a feed and some rehydration, we settled down in the bunks for the long sail back down the Sound of Mull and the Firth of Lorne. The wind had died somewhat, so there was little keeling over to disturb our sleep.
We awoke with the yacht becalmed, and for most of Saturday, we made slow progress down to the jetty in Jura. There was some movement passing the Gulf of Corryvreckan. At first, we thought the slow progress would help in that we would have an afternoon run up the Paps of Jura and then be able to sleep as the yacht sailed down and round the Mull of Kintyre. We then began to realise that we may end up in the dark on the Paps. The good news was that it was dry and a reasonably pleasant day. We eventually arrived at Craighouse at about 7pm.
The evening was benign, and although this was the shortest leg at 18 miles, it involved the most climbing over some pretty rough ground with little in the way of paths to help. We ran the first couple of miles from Craighouse and then changed into hill shoes for the climb up the three Paps. The evening just got better and better. By the time we reached the first summit, Beinn a' Chaolais, we were treated to scintillating sea views. We had made good time, and both of us seemed to be going well as we descended 300 metres and then began another 350 metre climb to Beinn an Oir. The official photographer was posed halfway up the craggy ridge, and as we passed him and looked out to sea, I remember thinking that this was probably one of the best moments in my life. I was as fit as I had ever been, travelling fast over tough terrain in the most beautiful wild landscape with a spectacular sunset over the sea.
There was no time for admiring the views from the summit, just another 300 metre descent and climb to the final Pap, Beinn Shiantaidh. The light was fading fast as we headed off the summit to the south and dark for the 6-kilometre run back to the road. We changed shoes and began the final twenty minutes of running back to the jetty at Craighouse. We hollered across to the yacht so they could send a dinghy over to collect us. It was after 11pm had taken over 4 hours, but it had been a successful run, and the welcome we got from the crew on the yacht was positive; we had performed better than they had ever expected.
A night breeze had struck up, so as we fell into the bunks, the yacht was making good progress. We expected to have sailed around the Mull of Kintyre by the morning. However, it is a 60-kilometre sail, and we were still approaching the point in the morning as the wind began to fade again. By late morning, we were becalmed, and the oars came out. We made a valiant effort, all of us doing spells rowing. As we were one of the smaller boats, it was relatively easier to row than on the catamarans and larger yachts. Keith and I took our turns and spent much of the afternoon rowing. We overtook Helen and Christine, who were in a speedy catamaran and had got a long way ahead of us on the previous sailing leg to Jura.
It was almost dark when we arrived in Lamlash, and before we began the path up Goatfell, there were a good 7 miles of running to Brodick. This was my sort of running, and we overhauled two other teams of runners on the way through Brodick. The good path meant that there were no real navigation problems on the ascent of Goat Fell, but the descent in the dark on a steep rocky path had me struggling to keep pace with Keith. On reaching the lower slopes, I took over, and I hammered it all back to the boat, overtaking another two sets of runners, one with three runners. It was just coming light as we reached the yacht to the absolute delight of the crew. We had cranked our way up to seventh place. Eric was ecstatic and had the yacht flying across the Firth of Clyde with all sails fully tightened. We sailed into Troon Harbour at about 7am in sixth place in one of the smallest boats.
It was almost dark when we arrived in Lamlash, and before we began the path up Goatfell, there were a good 7 miles of running to Brodick. This was my sort of running, and we overhauled two other teams of runners on the way through Brodick. The good path meant that there were no real navigation problems on the ascent of Goat Fell, but the descent in the dark on a steep rocky path had me struggling to keep pace with Keith. On reaching the lower slopes, I took over, and I hammered it all back to the boat, overtaking another two sets of runners, one with three runners. It was just coming light as we reached the yacht to the absolute delight of the crew. We had cranked our way up to seventh place. Eric was ecstatic and had the yacht flying across the Firth of Clyde with all sails fully tightened. We sailed into Troon Harbour at about 7am in sixth place in one of the smallest boats.
We had exceeded all our expectations and were afflicted by that magical feeling of knowing that, as a team, we had performed to the very maximum. The best small boat, and Keith and I had beaten some very good hill runners in the process. We had some breakfast and bade farewell to the sailors before Keith, and I caught the train back to Glasgow. I made it to the office for 9:00am after a fairly tough weekend. My colleagues in the office were not impressed when I took a wash in the toilets to refresh myself after the weekend's sweat and aches, and then carried on as if it was a normal day.
That afternoon, I did something quite unusual: I sneaked off at 4pm, flexitime allowed this, and I was home for 5 pm for some food and an early night. The children had made a card for me. I really did feel invincible but truly knackered.
That afternoon, I did something quite unusual: I sneaked off at 4pm, flexitime allowed this, and I was home for 5 pm for some food and an early night. The children had made a card for me. I really did feel invincible but truly knackered.
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| Leaving Oban Bay |
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| Keith is doing his morning exercises in the Sound of Luing |
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| Becalmed approaching Jura |
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| Eight hours of rowing in shifts |
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| Rowing up to Arran |
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| Passing Ailsa Craig |
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