Grasmere Fell Race August 09 Posted by John

On Sunday 30th August I ran in the Senior Guides Fell Race at Grasmere in the Lake District. The race is part of the entertainment at the Grasmere Show and Sports – an event which has been held continuously every year for at least the last 159 years – making this the oldest and most traditional fell race there is (and my first proper fell race).

The weather was terrible – continuous drizzle all day meant that the ground was saturated and even the lower fells were hidden in mist.

The race is 1% flat, 49.5% uphill and 49.5% downhill. Apart from one small uphill section on a rough stone path (which had a stream flowing down it) the course is all across open mountain side – the only concession made is that a rough track is cut through the bracken to mark the course.

The race starts on the showground, crosses the main Keswick/Windermere road and then climbs straight uphill over two rough fields, over a stile and onto the open fellside. The climb is over 800 feet – at an unrelenting 45% angle all of the way – over wet, slippery tussocky grass and rocks, through waist high bracken to a red flag on the top of the fell. A 100 yard slightly downhill section is the prize for reaching the top – albeit through a knee deep peat bog (Alan H would have loved this bit), round a second flag and then down (angling slightly across the slope fall line so that your right leg is always a foot or so below your left).

On leaving the open fell the runners have to leap or clamber over a wooden field fence – the only concession to the runners here is that the top barbed wire strand is removed on race day. The downhill gallop continues down two steep fields to cross the road and the finish in the main arena of the Show (with over 5,000 spectators to watch you make a fool of yourself).

On the map the race is no more than a mile and half – and the course record is 12 minutes and 21 seconds (set in 1974 by Fred Reeves). However, it is unrelentingly steep – both up and down – and over wet slippery turf and rocks all the way.

Despite the adverse weather there was a near record entry of over 100 runners (mostly experienced fell runners and only a few “first timers” like me). The start is with a real gun and – unlike my usual road races where you spend the first 200 yards or so gradually building up to your race speed – here there is a flat out sprint across the show field and over the main road to the start of the hill. The slope is so severe that within 25 yards at least half of the field (including me) were walking – stooped right over with your head practically touching the ground in front and hands thrusting onto thighs desperately trying to pump them up the slope as quickly as heart and lungs allow (such is the slope that a fast walk means that you can keep up with the few who are able to keep up some semblance of a jog). The field split very quickly – about 20 elite runners kept running (how do they do that?) and soon disappeared into the mist. The rest of us sweated, grunted, pumped and forced our way ever upwards. Positioning at the two bottlenecks (a gate into the second field and stile leading from the second field onto the fell) were (in retrospect) key to the overall finishing race position – because once on the fell there was very little room for overtaking (unless the person you were following fell or collapsed exhausted into the fern).

The uphill was as hard as I have ever known (think Darrens Dash but twice as steep and long – and the path up Darrens Dash is a veritable smooth pavement compared to that to the top of the Butter Crags). After about five minutes I was regretting ever having suggested to my family that we take a late summer Lake District break – and after 10 minutes it was case of thinking (no breath left to say it) that anyone who ever saw me entering a fell race again had permission to shoot me! The top arrived eventually (I was in the middle of a long snaking line of bent double “runners”) – but, as ever, there was a sting in the tail – the top involved a rock scramble (hands, knees and feet all had to be engaged) up 20 feet or so to the first red flag. One of the marshals encouragingly urged on the “Hay Hotrod” (it was either too misty for him to read the T-shirt properly or I may have been going so fast that the words were just a blur to him – I think the former!) and it was up and over – and into a knee deep bog. Thankfully this was slightly downhill – towards the next flag just visible in the mist. The lungs were bursting and the thighs jellified – but I managed to get round the flag with the thought that at least it was all downhill from here.

Now it was barely in control descending – leaping from one tuft of wet grass or rock to the next – hoping that my new “Inov8 Mudclaws” would not let me down (they didn’t). A slip here and you would be in an uncontrolled mud slide (with the odd protruding rock for good measure) for 20 yards or until your fall is arrested by the bracken bank on the lower side of the “path” – and the chances are that you would take out at least the two runners in front of you at the same time. Running flat out down a 45% degree slippery uneven slope is not easy but (once I had got some semblance of controlled breathing back) it was the best fun I have had in a long time. I even overtook a few runners - but probably only because they could hear me coming and feared for their own safety if I was not allowed to pass.

Slowing for the fence took some doing – and once I had clambered over it (I gather the lead runners just leapt it without breaking stride) it was a hurtle down over the fields to the road. The return to the horizontal on the road and show ground came as shock – the weight came back onto my legs just as if a lift had pulled up sharply at the bottom of the lift-shaft – and then it was a short “sprint” across the show field in front of the crowd to the finish line.

Unlike most races where I finish dead beat I was hardly tired at all – it is only a short dash after all – but the next days my thighs were very tender!

I finished in 82nd place (out of 102 finishers) in 23minutes and 48 seconds. The winner (Rob Jebb for the 6th time in a row – a modern day record) took an unbelievable 13 minutes and 20 seconds.

A great experience – I can recommend it to all – and I will definitely be back again sometime – and I will try more fell races (the joy of out of control downhill yomping makes the uphill effort all worth while).

PS There is no entry fee for the Grasmere race (which is one of the iconic races in the fell racing calendar); in fact, they pay you to enter (in that if you take part you get your show entrance money returned to you)!
PS Have a look at the VIDEO of the race (taken with a “headcam”) – on www.grasmeresportsandshow.co.uk – and I promise that you will never complain about “undulating courses” again!