Susan Donnelly

 

 

At 1:00 a.m. on June 20, 2009, I started the West Highland Way race in Scotland, a long-time dream.  It’s been one of those things in my life that I wanted so badly to do that I expected it would never happen.  Looking back, it’s a great reminder that you don’t have to make everything happen on your own.  Sometimes you have to let good people help you get there.

 

What it is

The race travels the 95 mile length of the world-renowned West Highland Way, Scotland’s original long-distance path, and as one guide book says, “practically an institution in its own right.”  

It’s a point-to-point path that travels from Milngavie outside Glasgow north to Ft. William through the Scottish Highlands.  Along the way, it passes Scotland’s best-known loch, Loch Lomond, it’s wildest moor, Rannoch moor, and it’s most beautiful glen, Glen Coe.  If you want to see Scotland, this is the way to do it.

The Start

Rob and I pulled in early, about 9:00 p.m. at the train station in Milngavie (pronounced mull-guy) and were greeted by Jon Steele and Steve Walker, RD and right-hand from the Hardmoors 110 we ran last fall in England.  We tried to catch some shut-eye as the daylight waned but as more runners and crews pulled into the parking lot, the noise rose and atmosphere became too nerve-wracking to even try.  

We checked in and weighed in at the church across the street and met Dario, the RD.  The best way to sum him up is that he’s one of the main people that made this dream possible.  In the months leading up to the race, he patiently answered novice questions and helped us plan logistics.  He’s the model of what I’d like to be in my upcoming 50k.

Eric and Wendy, our crew and defacto race mentors, arrived with the perfect crew vehicle – a panel van you could get out of the rain in and even stand up in.  Wow.  Rob and I aren’t used to having crews at all but it’s an understandable requirement in this race since the race management doesn’t provide American-style aid stations.  Your crew is your aid station.  

Now let me confess that we were thrilled to have them but after decades of successfully running ultras without them, it was tempting for us to think that, other than transferring our gear and food from once checkpoint to the next, we didn’t actually need a crew.  Laughably not so!  Eric has finished the race three times and Wendy has hiked all of it and run the shorter races that build up to the WHW, so they knew the course like the back of their hands.  Not only did they keep us well-fed and tended, they gave priceless advice along the way and briefed us each time we saw them on what was ahead.  And it was simply reassuring and fun for us nervous newbies to see them as we arrived at a checkpoint.

So about 12:50 a.m., we assembled with the other runners and crews at the sign for the West Highland Way.  Dario gave a briefing (that I should have listened to better – more on that later) and at 1:00 a.m., we were off!

Milngavie to Beech Tree Inn (7 miles)

After starting through the tunnel in Milngavie, we quickly left the Glasgow suburb into the dark of the countryside and ran through woods, along a creek and by pastures. The highlands are nowhere to be seen here.  The trail here is generally flat, two-wide, and easy dirt road footing.  It’s well-marked with sign posts but not flagged with any of the colored tape or glow sticks used in American ultras, and after our hard-earned lesson about course navigation at Hardmoors 110 last fall, we worked hard to keep up with everyone else until we got the feel for how reliable and easy-to-find the signposts would be.  

On top of that, we were overdressed (Wendy said as much and I know better!) and the infamous midgies, absent in the city, had attacked so we had to keep moving to keep the biting at a sane level.  Unfortunately, we were concentrating so hard on keeping up and keeping moving that we missed the fact we ran by two castles and the Glengoyne Distillery.  

Finally, we saw Eric’s van at the Beech Tree Inn.  It’s an easy access point, though not an official checkpoint.  Unlike most American ultras, crews at the races I’ve run in Europe are allowed to meet their runners anywhere along the course.  We practically dove at the van, yanked off our jackets and slathered on bug repellant. Eric and Wendy were waiting at the side of the inn and hadn’t seen us run to the van, so we chatted for a quick minute with them before taking off to catch back up.  They looked worried.

Beech Tree Inn to Drymen (12 miles)

This section had gently rolling trail, still mostly two-wide, a few stiles and some pavement (ugh).  Thankfully, we hooked up with Debs and another woman who was back to better her time along this section for some excellent company.  The midgies were still a distraction, as they’d found the unprotected part in my hair (no kidding), so I finally got smart and pulled my Buff over my hair.  Problem solved.  

Eric and Wendy met us at the road crossing in Drymen still looking a bit worried.  We were well behind the main pack but I’d never run this fast for this far at the start of a 100 and Rob and I both were also bit worried about the sustainability of the pace.  We were just that slow or had everyone taken off too fast? One experienced runner behind us had assured us that it was the latter but we were so far behind it was hard to have faith in our own experience.  I downed a Lucozade (love this stuff – can’t get it in the States, darn it), Rob had a Red Bull, and we headed off for Conic Hill in the growing light.

Drymen to Rowardennan (27 miles)

We headed out of Drymen into Garadhban Forest we got a glimpse of Conic Hill, our first hill, in the dawn.   We left the dirt road for the single track up Conic Hill and as we rounded the side, Loch Lomond and surrounding hills came into view in the foggy dawn.  Wow.  The descent was steep and rocky, hard to look at while you’re trying to take in the awesome view.  To add to the mix, a BBC reporter was interviewing us as we came down the hill.  Hope I was intelligible!

At the bottom of the hill, the trail starts its long trek along the side of Loch Lomond.  It’s known as Scotland’s most beautiful and probably most popular loch.  From here the trail follows the long loch, Scotland’s largest freshwater loch, for 30k.  Thankfully, we get a few aid stops between here and there.

The water was like glass in the dawn light and foggy clouds blanketed the hilltops.  The place practically breathed peace.  Surprisingly, people had camped all along the lake side and left their trash (not bits and pieces, we’re talking bag loads) all over the camp sites.  It was a curious sight that we’d also glimpsed outside Inverness earlier in the week.  Eric later told me it was a national embarrassment.  I can see why, and coming from an area of our country that is rightly stereotyped for throwing trash over the side of a road, I can sympathize.  It’s hard to understand why people would leave that kind of mess in a place they clearly want to enjoy.

Rob and I caught a few other runners along the lake shore, to our relief, and rolled into Rowardennan in fair shape.  This was an official checkpoint, so we checked in.  Eric and Wendy looked cheery.  Rob and I were ready to go the race on GU and drinks but Wendy talked us into some toast.  Heaven!  Who knew toast could be this good?  I got another piece and fantasized about more all the way to our next meeting with them at Carmyle Cottage.

 

Rowardennan to Inversnaid (34 miles)

 

This section started as gently rolling, mostly dirt road with bits of single-track trail, and climbed up road near the end.  The main things I remember are the lush green-ness and perfect waterfall after waterfall.  The ground under the trees was bursting with ferns and soft grass and the boulders and rocks we passed were draped with blankets of fuzzy moss.  It drizzled off and on as we went (others in the race reported that they’d been rained on).

We rolled into the hotel parking lot at Inversnaid – an official checkpoint where we had been able to position a “disposable” drop bag – and got our Lucozade and the two GUs we’d put in the drop bags.  Thanks to the emergency crew that staffed this remote station for taking our bags there!

The nervousness was well over.  It was all fun.  What a great day and a great race!

Inversnaid to Beinglas Farm (41 miles)

We left the parking lot on twisty trail perched along the tree-covered side of Loch Lomond with, in my rock-loving opinion, the perfect mix of rocks and single track trail.  It was flat-out fun and still swathed in fern and moss with waterfalls here and there.  Rob loved this section.

We emerged from the trees near the head of the loch and encountered a runner with his map who was disoriented.  Ironically, I was able to assure him that we were on the trail and headed in the right direction and that we didn’t have far to go to the water stop at Beinglas Farm.  Despite the off-on drizzle, it was really warming up (I had by now shed my long-sleeved shirt and was running in a tank top) and he didn’t keep up with us, so we hoped he was doing ok.

We passed the Doune Bothy, and passed over the few rises left before cruising into Beinglas Farm outside Inverarnan where a few runners and crew were hanging out in the shade at the trail sign that was surrounded by water jugs.  Andy Knowles from Hardmoors caught up to us.  We talked and laughed a bit with everyone, filled bottles, and headed out toward Bridge of Orchy.  So lucky to have good weather!

Beinglas Farm to Carmyle Cottage (45 miles)

The trail now was dirt road again that took us pleasantly along the River Falloch with it’s falls, a series of cascades rather than one big falls.  It’s flat-ish, easy running.

Soon enough, the dirt road heads across ups and downs along a series of power lines towers, though you almost don’t notice them for the surrounding scenery.  You can also see the runners on the uphills ahead.  We spotted a red shirted runner, easy to see in the distance, so we could tell how far ahead we had to go.  We ran off and on though here with Andy and his friend and caught up with a few other runners.

The trail parallels the A82 highway (and the rail line that we take back to Milngavie after the race to get our car) for a while before taking a sharp left through a ridiculously low “sheep creep” our group of runners all laughed through under the rail line and a tunnel under the road.  Crews, including ours, were waiting on the other side.

More Lucozade, lots of food whipped up by Wendy, a trail description from Eric, and we were off.  It’s going fast!

Carmyle Cottage to Auchtertyre Farm (50 miles)

We started back in an open area on the side of Glen Falloch along a rock wall bordering what was old military road.  It’s now full of loose fist-sized rock.   Ugh.  This is the stuff that tears my feet up and I somehow slipped on one a tweaked the anterior tendon on my right ankle.  We finally caught up with the runner in the red shirt we’d been watched for miles under the powerlines only to find he was an amputee – right leg and hand.  We chatted for a while.  He’d put some no-slip on his Cheetah prosthetic but still said loose rocks and slippery ones were hard to deal with.  And I thought I was having trouble – how inspiring!

The open area was soon behind as we crossed through a deer fence into a forestry plantation and began a series of fairly steep roller-coaster up and downs near the town of Crianlarich.  The climbs were getting steeper and longer, but nothing epic.  Yet.  

We descended down for good, and passed under the rail line and across the highway to emerge out of the trees on an asphalt track, headed for Kirkton farm.  The trail took a sharp right at the farm and passed an old graveyard and ruin of a priory.

From here, we ran along a flat dirt road through open glen into Auchtertyre Farm for an official stop, complete with weigh in.  I’d only lost two pounds, though I always doubt the accuracy of weighings since I’d weighed in wearing several more layers of street clothes.  Maybe Wendy was feeding us too well?

We trotted a few yards to the van and lo and behold, Wendy gave us each take out of baked potato and salsa.  No losing weight this way.  Eric prepped us for the next section and we left on a picnic with our fork and plastic dish of potato.

Auchtertyre Farm to Tyndrum (53 miles)

We crossed the highway again to run a pleasant, wooded, gently rolling section along the peaceful Cononish River.  Rob took a tumble through here.  Thankfully, no harm was done to anything but the plastic dish, which was shattered.

 

 

The trail passed through an old lead mine workings, starkly barren and white.  Eerie.  We soon started encountering houses on the outskirts of Tyndrum, and and rolled across A82 again and into a parking lot at Tyndrum with one intact plastic fork and the shattered remains of the dish.  Thankfully, Wendy said no harm done and agreed to feed us again.

Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy (60 miles)

The trail now climbed back up on the old military road near the A82 and rail line, which surprisingly, wasn’t bad at all.  We passed a tiny water treatment plant and crossed a beautiful stone bridge across the Crom Allt to see what suddenly seemed like “real” highlands flanking the open glen ahead of us.  

Sure enough, at least two of these were mountains whose names even I recognized from our short time here – Beinn Odhar and Beinn Dorain.  They were in all the hiking books and you could understand why – big and majestic.

We descended from the narrow pass into the broad, open valley.  A curvy river gleamed in the sunlight and the massive grey mountains dwarfed us.  By now, the clouds had given up and it was so sunny that I got worried about sunburn, of all things.  This was great running.

On the way through the valley, we saw our first shaggy brown highland cow and ran along through neon-green meadows full of sheep in the sun.  We yo-yo’ed he whole way with Andy and some other runners until we finally reached the tunnel under the train track that led us left, down the road and across the A82 again to the Bridge of Orchy.

 

 

Eric and Wendy were waiting.  We got more good food and discussed logistics.  It was time to get serious.  Rannoch Moor was ahead.  Did we need to gear up?  No, Eric and Wendy would meet us one more time before the moor at Victoria Bridge.  We could go light for a few more miles.

As we headed out carrying little gear or clothing, we got warned about the upcoming section by a race worker.  Once we assured him we were meeting crew at Victoria Bridge, we were allowed to pass.

Bridge of Orchy to Victoria Bridge (64 miles)

The trail climbed out of the parking lot through pine forest that ends below the summit of Mam Carraigh.  The view from the summit was worth a stop and we passed several casual walkers headed up as we descended down the other side.  There were no other runners in sight now but we knew we weren’t last and were by now comfortable with the trail markings.  Clouds were rolling back in so I put a long-sleeved shirt back on.

 

 

At the bottom, we took the road to the left that wound around to where Eric and Wendy were parked at a pull out near the beautiful Victoria Bridge.  It was yet another arched stone bridge but you never get tired of seeing them.

Rannoch Moor was next.  We got our heaviest jackets and gloves, headlamp and hat.  Eric and Wendy walked us to the start of the section at the old drover’s road to Glen Coe.  They insisted on getting a photo of us next to the sign about some guy who made the road back in the 1700s.  It took me only a half mile to understand why.

Victoria Bridge to Kingshouse (71 miles)

The drover’s road is cobbled but not like you might think.  These are unsurfaced cobbles, meaning they are simply pointy, lumpy rocks pulled from the field and stuck in the ground at somewhat the same height as the ones next to them.  After a half mile, your feet are complaining loudly and you’re looking desperately for smooth grass or dirt on the side.  I was not exactly thanking the road-making guy.

Fortunately, the cobbles relented soon after we topped out onto Rannoch Moor because this turned out to be my favorite part of the course.  It’s isolated, empty nothingness…remote and completely exposed to the elements.  It reminded me of Alaskan tundra.  The forbidding Black Mountains hanging close over us on the left and the open, boggy expanse of heather and grass, dotted with lochans (little lochs) and islands and nothing else stretching away for miles on the right.  You can see immediately why mystery novels are set on moors.  More than the mountains, this wild, wind-swept place makes you feel tiny and alone but oddly, also part of the big world as a whole.  

 

 

In bad weather, which is the norm, it would be miserable or downright dangerous here.  We’d drive this road the day before the race in driving wind and rain that was scary to drive in, exactly what I’d been dreading for the race.  If I remember right, bad weather here caused the race to cancel one year.  We hit it in the long northern dusk with light starting to fade and clouds closing in, but no rain and only light wind.

 

 

I couldn’t absorb enough of it and would have been happy to stay there.  We spotted the ruined Ba Cottage and soon after crossed the stone Ba Bridge above a crashing river.  As we climbed the long, low rise after the bridge, we saw a stone marker partway up the hill to the left.  We later learned it was a memorial to the brother of Ian Fleming (creator of James Bond 007), who had met an untimely death nearby.  The family owns the land, including the picturesque white Blackrock cottage.  

Dramatic Buachaille Etive Mor sits solidly in the background at the head of Glen Coe as the trail descends down the moor and crosses A82 again.  We ran the short bit of asphalt into Kingshouse Inn.  It was still dusk.  We got fed warm food and headed back out again into the midgies.  The infamous crossing of Devil’s Staircase at the head of Glen Coe was ahead and we weren’t sure what to expect but were confident in our ability to handle it since Rob and I are both strong climbers.  Or at least we were.

Kingshouse to Kinlochleven (80 miles)

We shuffled along the flat dirt road toward Glen Coe, and Eric and Wendy honked driving by on A82 below us.  It was about 10:30 p.m. and in the northern summer it wasn’t dark enough yet to turn on our headlamps.  We arrived at the bottom of Devils Staircase and headed uphill, ready for a good climb in the chilly evening air.

At least that’s what I thought.  Rob simply couldn’t keep up with me and I wasn’t climbing hard at all.  He drifter further and further behind.  I waited..he caught up…I climbed more and turned around to see him lagging far behind me.  We repeated this all the way up.  Runners passed us on the climb where we should have been passing them.  What was wrong?

We eventually topped out at the pass at 11:00 p.m. and turned on our headlamps.  It was a good climb, Massanutten caliber, but it wasn’t that hard and Rob should have been doing better.  Rob insisted nothing was wrong.  I tried to suggest he was dehydrated but evidence suggested otherwise.  Nothing fit.

We saw a few frogs on top of the pass in the standing water.  Brave frogs – it was cold.  Wind is always stronger on the passes.   Jackets went on, hoods up.  We descended the rocky road with a light glaring at us that I though was a runner’s headlamp looking back at us.  Turns out it was a security light from a building that was probably connected with the defunct hydro project nearby.

At the building, we got on gravel road that seemed to go on forever and eventually worked our way down the mountain alongside what turned out to be water-carrying tubes for the hydro project.  The brother of one of the runners ran in to the Kinlochleven hostel aid station with us, giving us welcome pointers on where to visit after the race.  Rob, however, was quiet.

We weighed in again.  Rob, no problem.  I was still down the same two pounds, though this time there was some hesitation about letting me go on.  What?!  I thankfully was able to prove I was sane and rational, at least for an ultrarunner, and we joined Eric and Wendy at the van for hot soup!

Kinlochleven to Lundavra (89 miles)

Eric and Wendy walked us out of town on the road to the head of the single-track trail up the hill through some woods.  It was nice to share their company at least this far.  We only got to see them at aid stops, which Rob and I are programmed to make as short as possible.  I wished we could have spent more time enjoying their company.

On the hill, Rob immediately began to drop behind me again.  It was like this the whole nine miles to Lundavra, which has a few respectable climbs.  This looked like a nice section, with most of it was through open glen and a river below. We were eventually able to turn on our lights, thanks to the ridiculously short summer nights only six hours long.  Along the way, I started to struggle too.  The footing here for me was the worst, lots of loose fist-sized rock that was tearing my anterior tendon apart.   I wasn’t even tired but I stumbled, and stumbled and kept stumbling through the rocks the whole way.  To add to the difficulty, I was trying to mentally pull a silent Rob along.  He was still struggling and didn’t want to figure out why.  If we had a down moment thus far, I guess it was this.

So it was good to pull into the Lundavra parking lot in the the middle of nowhere.  Crew and workers were huddled around a fire, probably as much for the midgies as the cold.  Eric and Wendy quickly saw Rob wasn’t doing well (apparent to everyone but him) and got worried again.  Despite his pace, we both knew he could finish since there was plenty of time but even so, it was still hard to see him struggle.

Next stop was the finish line.  Wendy and Eric gave us directions while I was trying to make sure we both had everything we needed.  I should have paid more attention – I only got half of the directions in my head…

Lundavra to Ft. William (95 miles – the finish!)

We climbed up through a recently clear-cut area and descended into a wooded pine plantation.  The trail roller-coastered again through the dark pines, green moss and ferns.  Rob dragged.  I waited.

 

 

At one point, just like Eric promised, we rounded a corner and there was big, hulking Ben Nevis, the highest mountain on the British Isles.  A truly massive mountain (we climbed it a few days later).

 

 

We finally came out on to a steep gravel road downhill and could see runners ahead of us.  Rob agreed to run some downhill here and there but couldn’t even run downhill well.  At one point we actually passed some runners, much to our surprise.  Another wonderful surprise was turning around to see Jon and Steve coming up strong from behind.  Steve had stomach problems at Kingshouse and it didn’t sound promising for his first finish here.  It was good to see them both smiling and running fast, sure to finish.

As they got out of sight, we reached the point where I had to recall Wendy’s directions.  We passed the trail turn, as directed, and headed for the Braveheart parking lot.  The finish was within reach.  All was good until we got to the parking lot.  There was a sign that directed us toward town but I thought I remembered Wendy saying to go straight.  I hesitated.  Rob was too out of it to help.  One of the other runners had reached the parking lot just ahead of us and was talking with his crew so I asked him if the sign was the right direction to follow.  He said yes and I saw footprints on the trail so we went, but it didn’t feel right.  It went straight uphill and we intuitively should have been going down.  Maybe it was one small uphill?  No, we kept going up.  And up.  And up.

We got a great view of Ft. William and nearby Loch Leven from the summit.  I got us past several other turns down the right trail to come out behind a building.  I recognized some race crew members hanging out in cars nearby.  Curiously though, there were only a few crew members hanging out here, no one directing us to the finish, so we had to ask.  They said we were there!

We ran around to the front of the building and the finish, only to find we’d gone the wrong way at the Braveheart parking lot.  My fault.  It was in Dario’s briefing and Wendy’s directions at the last stop, I just didn’t remember it and made the wrong choice.

Dario was dismayed and I thought he might DQ us or tell us to go back out and finish the right way – ok by me but I wasn’t sure Rob could make it back up that hill.  He said we’d finsihed.  We had the ceremonial Glengoyne whisky at the finish (not bad, actually!).  I went out to find Eric and Wendy and someone told me they were out waiting for us on the road at a roundabout.  I shuffled out to get them as fast as I could and they were understandably upset and worried about us.  I felt awful disappointing everyone.  Rob felt worse and had long since lain down in the Leisure Center for a nap.  I opted for the massage (fell asleep) and a shower.

Eric and Wendy drove us to the awards ceremony, held in a nearby school gymnasium.  It was fun to finally see the other runners and crew, now that everyone was together.  We got called up to receive our crystal goblets and Dario noted that this was Rob’s 546th finish.  A well-earned one too. 

We really planned to attend the post-race party but Rob was out of it.  Turns out, he had picked up a nasty cold that hung on for two weeks that explained his bad climbing.  He shared it with me (thank you), and it felt like the air just wasn’t getting into my lungs.

Post Race

I’d love to do it again.  This is one of those races that had both a beautiful course and that feeling of the runners as a family.  Those are hard to find and something to be cherished when you find it.

I also have to thank Rob for signing us up, Jon Steele and Steve Walker for encouraging us and making Hardmoors possible for us, Dario for answering our questions and helping us plan, and of course Wendy and Eric for taking outstanding care of us and for teaching us along the way.  Sometimes you have to ask for help in making a dream come true and this was certainly the case.  It wouldn’t have happened without all of these people lending a hand.  I hope I get to pay back the favor someday!

 

 

Posted: Monday, July 6, 2009, 7:51 pm | Tags: Blog | Respond | Trackback