St Cuthbert's Way

St Cuthbert's Way route 

The idea for this first came into my head in Spring 2018 but I can't remember why. I think it looked like a nice goal for a solo weekend trip with public transport options at both ends. 2018 passed without any serious plans to attempt it but when I set out on my 16week marathon plan for 2019, I thought I'd try to fit it in.

The Logistics

The tidal causeway at Holy Island was going to be the thing that dictated the trip. If I was to travel W-E on the more traditional direction, I would be under pressure to beat the tide. Perhaps if I was racing that might be a good thing, and infact I think there is an Ultra race that does just that. I felt there would be more control if I was to start at Holy Island and travel west ending at Melrose where there was no tide!

On the way out, I could get the early train to Berwick and then a bus to Holy Island. To return home, there were hourly trains to Waverley from Tweedbank close to Melrose. For accommodation, I chose the conveniently located Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm which was just short of halfway between Holy Island and Melrose. At the quarter points, was the Wooler co-op for resupply, and on day two, the Woodside Garden Centre. Everything was set.

Day One

Waverley Station was remarkably busy for 8am on a Saturday morning, but I assumed it was Festival goers heading home after a week's culture. The 08:07 Crosscountry train to somewhere in the far south-west of England trundled in and I found coach D where my reserved seat awaited. Forty minutes later, we rolled into Berwick Upon Tweed where I disembarked. In the station car park, I waited for the Border Bus number 477 to arrive at 09:05. Along with ten or so other passengers, we boarded the wee bus and paid our fares to the driver who seemed to be learning the ropes of the ticket system.

The bus rattled its way south along the A1 soon turning left to head towards Beal and the tidal causeway. By the way the seawater puddles on either side of the road rippled, and the splash of the pools on the road blew up, I could tell it was going to be a windy run.

We pulled up in the car park of the wee village to alight. Most turned left to walk to the castle, I headed to the toilets for a last minute pee. I then walked to the Lindisfarne Priory, passing the various cafes and ice cream sellers. I thought the Priory would be a good place to start my run to end at Melrose Abbey. Whether those were the recognised SCW start/end points I have no idea, but it was good enough for me.

After a wee monologue to the camera, I started the watch and and lumbered out of the grounds onto the road, returning back towards the causeway.  Initially I was able to follow a pavement, dodging past the multitude of tourist daytrippers that were walking from the car park, but it soon ended and I was onto the road facing the oncoming traffic.

The shelter on the causeway where stranded drivers can wait out the tide/rescue

I was also facing the oncoming headwind which slowed the pace. I wasn't really bothered at this point about my pace, more about the energy being expended to move forward. I was going to get nackered pretty quickly if the wind didn't abate, or I didn't get some shelter. 30minutes in and I was across to the mainland turning left off the road onto boggy ground beside some WW anti-tank blocks.

At last there was some lee from the wind here and I bounced along the muddy grass until heading inland towards the infamous Fenham Hill railway level crossing. Before I reached it, I met my first SCW walkers, a large group of elderly grey-hairs with poles heading east. At the railway, I used the telephone to contact the Berwick signal box to check whether it was safe to cross.

"Hello, I'm at Fenham Hill, can you tell me whether it is safe to cross?"
"How many are you?"
"One"
"How long will it take you to cross?"
"Oh, ten seconds"
"Yes, on you go then."

And on I went, over the rails and back to the field and climb over Fenham Hill. Soon enough I hit a track and eventually tarmac reaching the very busy A1 road at an effective crossroads. There was a constant procession of northbound vehicles all travelling at 50-60mph with little or no spacing. On the opposite side, a small queue of cars was growing to pull onto the A1 from the Fenwick road, my destination. It was a frustrating wait, and I eventually took my life in my hands and 'ran' between a gap after several minutes.

I stopped in Fenwick to check the map as I stood beside the village hall. The wind was wild and I was physically pushed about where I stood. Not a good prospect for what was to come. Up the road passing a group of farmhands gathered beside their massive harvesters ready to spend the day in the fields. Past Blawearie and off the road onto the field boundary beside the woods. I was sheltered quite nicely here and chose to stop at 11km/1 hour to grab some flapjack.

The next punctuation would be St Cuthbert's Cave. Unfortunately the map I was using (greyscale inkjet screenshots from BingMaps of the OS 1:50K series) finished with the cave on the edge of the paper so I struggled to decipher precisely where I should be heading. I followed the obvious tracks, but at one finger post which was shared with the Northumberland Coastal Path, I took the wrong fork, not realising until I was 500m along it. Fortunately the terrain was easy with a grassy field of livestock between me and my correct path.

Over the hill and into the lovely pinewood, I stumbled down the rocky sandstone path and into the bowl in front of the famous cave. This was a chance for another breather to take a gel and film the cave entrance. 15.5km in.

On the way towards the road at Old Hazelrigg, I passed a couple more groups of walkers heading east. They all looked like multi-dayers and I wondered whether they would reach the causeway in time to cross. I stopped just short of East Horton which marked 20km, at a small rise in the track. I stupidly took the opportunity to have a sit down, which I soon regretted as it was pretty tough to get going again, especially at the foot of a hill.

Fortunately there soon followed a long section of gentle downhill tarmac until I crossed the fine old Weetwood Bridge over the River Till where the trail then climbed steeply through bracken onto moorland to the east of Wooler. This passed without event, and I happily jogged into Wooler with the thought of lunch and the delights of the Co-op. 28.6km in.

I bought lunch (Cheese & Onion sarnie, McCoys, port pie, lucozade) and ate it whilst sitting on a sunny bench in the churchyard that overlooked the square. It was very pleasant watching the world pass by and I briefly managed to forget what I still had ahead. After sorting out the maps and reminding myself of the route to Kirk Yetholm, I trotted round to the bus station WC to wash my face and refill my camelbak.

Then I was off up the steep road out of the village which I had come clattering down back in June during the Cheviot Hills Trail Half. I decided not to try running here, it really was too steep and I'd likely look like a numpty. Not far from the track that leaves the road heading for Waud House, an older gent came trotting along the road with 'ultra' gear on. We greeted each other in passing and I wondered about his source & destination.

Just as I left the road to start up the track on the weird SCW loop, I suddenly realised there might be a shortcut option by staying on the road and the map confirmed my guess. This was to be the first of a couple of other shortcuts/deviations that I would take in the weekend. Guiltlessly, I soon rejoined the SCW at the Wooler Common car park and familiar ground that took me onto the Cheviots.

As suspected, the higher I climbed, the windier it got. But it was mild and I was able to just pull my hat down and plough on in my t-shirt. Unfortunately of course, the rain made an appearance after a couple of km and I actually stopped to don the cagoule. As quickly as the rain began, it had stopped and off came the cag. Just a shower.

The wind was really strong now, not gusting, just a constant headwind which made even running on the flat hardgoing. I was jealous of those walkers I passed going with the wind; did they realise how lucky they were?

At last the climbing stopped and I dropped down the 170m off the hills to the track that would lead to Hethpool. At 38km I stopped in some woods on a style for another gel and some cheese which I'd bought at Wooler. Delicious! I also decided to try out the radio to take my mind off the miles ahead and was glad to find a crystal clear Radio2 signal, some Josh Lycett guff to entertain me on a Saturday afternoon.

At Hethpool I took another break to switch the maps over again and take water before jogging slowly up the tarmac to the road end at Elsdonburn. The climb up to the Border was long and slow and of course the wind was still blowing hard on the 340m summit but when I arrived and stopped for some sweeties, I was ecstatic. I knew I would be able to finish the day - Kirk Yetholm was within touching distance. 46km to here - longer than a marathon distance! OK, I hadn't been running the whole time, and had taken a wee lunch break, but still it was under my own steam. I made sure to send a text home in case there was no signal down in the village below.

Twenty minutes later, I was trotting into Kirk Yetholm where I made sure to run up to the famous wall of the Border Hotel and stop the watch, to the bemusement of some pub drinkers sitting at tables outside. I was very happy!


Relive:

Relive 'st_cuthbert_s_way_day1.gpx'

       

       

https://www.relive.cc/view/r10007597985

Strava:

Lowther Trail Half

This race fitted the marathon training plan of Week 12 which said for the Sunday long run "27km easy with 8 at marathon pace". I thought a 21km trail race would be a suitable alternative. Other attractive factors were it being a Martin Stone (he of LAMM fame) organised race. Also it had a relatively cheap entry price of £11. The only downside was the distance from Edinburgh, the race being on the edge of the Lake District, but the M74/M6 would help here.

Of course the British summer continued in the same vein of previous weekends and it was soaking. My drive south was a wet aquaplane to the junction at Penrith. Not far past Gretna, Martin sent a text to all runners to say the Lowther Show had been cancelled due to the weather, but the race was still on. The Lowther Show is an annual agricultural event in the grounds of Lowther Castle of which the race was one of the events.

I followed signs and marshall direction to the hard-standing car park where the usual running types were milling about. It was raining lightly with a reasonable breeze. A couple of minutes walk took me to the small white registration marquee where I collected my number and saw Martin doing his stuff. Back to the car to eat my lunch and tog up.

At 12:50 I headed back down to the tent where everyone was gathering in nervous groups. There were some VERY fit looking people there, with an air of experience about them. Hairy tanned legs, worn vests, tatty bumbags everywhere. Hardly any noobs as far as I could tell. Martin appeared with his obligatory megaphone and gave the race briefing. Of note was the 'proximity dibbers' we had all been issued with - no need to stick them in a box, just pass within 3metres of them and your time would be recorded.

The route had two compulsory checkpoints on the high ground which we had to pass. There was also a crossing of the River Lowther which normally is fordable, but today we were told to use the nearby suspension bridge. For safety reasons, Martin wanted us to walk the bridge, and the only way to enforce this was by stopping the clock at either end by getting runners to physically Dib.

At 13:00 he counted us down and we were careering under the archway of the castle onto some sodden grass running helter skelter towards the river where we turned left and joined a tarmac road heading towards the village of Askham. Over the old stone bridge across the River Lowther and then the big climb up to Heughscar Hill.

Although tough, it was a good way to separate out the field quickly and soon enough I was stuck on the heels of one grey haired guy who had a pleasantly relaxed gait. From the summit where we circled the cairn dibber (and it beeped), we headed south east across moorland (but still on paths) towards Butterwick. I managed to overtake the grey-hair as he stopped to grab a water at the 1st station on the minor road but he soon caught me up until he fell over crossing a small burn behind me.

At the suspension bridge I had overtaken two others and decided to use the wee hiatus to have a gel - somewhat tricky with a camera, dibber and gel in my paws. Soon after the bridge, we made the second big climb of the route which was a bit sloppy. I passed a female who was wearing those weird shoes that look like feet and have no grip. She was really struggling in the slippy mud.

Past a lovely limestone pavement with clints and grykes and eventually past the 2nd checkpoint before turning north and the long descent back towards the castle. The fields became a track which became a road and the pace just quickened all the while until I was averaging well below 4min/km pace slapping my feet on the tarmac. The only slowing was at the many cattle grids that had to be crossed.

With about 1km to go, the track turned gently uphill again and I was shocked (but not surprised) to see a finished runner jogging back along the track. He was young I suppose!

I was now officially knackered so struggled to keep the momentum up the hills. I walked the 'steeper' gradients of track, but made sure to run as soon as possible. There were some kind supporters cheering me in as I rounded the castle wall and under the archway. Up to the finish dibber and the tent where Martin welcomed me back, took my dibber and gave me my printout. 37th out of 37 finishers, 5th MV40. "Help yourself to a beer" he said waving me towards a table covered in bottles of 'Fuggles' beer. "Don't mind if I do."

I'd do that race again.

37 / 195 01:46:20 5th MV40.

A wee video :



Strava route: