HPH Fell Trip – July 2024

A roundup of a packed weekend of fun and running – written by Sarah Jewers

Nearly 13 months on from the trip to Eryri for the Moel Siabod fell race, the Hyde Park Harriers mountain-enthusiasts took to the South Lakes for another successful fell trip. This time, we took on the Blisco Dash.

The Blisco Dash, an out and back up the Wainwright Pike of Blisco, is described by organisers Ambleside AC as “usually an informal, low-key Wednesday evening summer race with a £1 entry fee” and apparently, the slower the runner, the more beer they receive. However, this year it had “hit the big time” as the final English and the British Short Champs one-off race. This meant that the field was split with the women setting off at 1pm and them men setting off at 2.45pm, hopefully avoiding the PECO-like anticipation of the faster runners from the second batch catching you up on narrow Beckett trails. The race promised a steep ascent, scrambly summit and a potentially boggy descent back into Langdale valley – all whilst sharing the hill with some of the best in the sport right now.

But that was Saturday, and the fun started long before.

I was working on Thursday and watching Leeds Grand Youth Theatre’s Little Shop of Horrors at City Varieties. Meanwhile, Richard Cartwright was taking on the Fairfield Horseshoe on the Rydal Round, which is part of Ambleside Sports, a 6-hour sports fair made up of a huge variety of sports including Cumberland and Westmorland Wrestling. Rich put down a very respectable 2:19:44 for the 14.5km (9 mile) route, covering 915m (3002ft) of elevation. That evening, Rydal Hall campsite began to turn red with an offset white stripe as the HPH gang started to arrive for the long weekend. The gazebo was put up and plans were hatched for another big day in the fells on Friday before the rest of us arrived. The Pike of Blisco was looming, but not quite yet.

On Friday, Rich, Lou Gardham and Vicky Smith took on leg two of the Bob Graham/Billy Bland in prep for the 2025 HPH fell challenge. Starting in Thelkeld, they ran back to camp along the Hellvelyn ridge, taking in about 27km and nearly 2,000m of elevation. I’ve heard of taking the long way home but that’s the mega way home. When the rest of us arrived throughout the afternoon and evening, we saw three varying levels of broken, but it sounds like it was still a stunning day of recce-ing and peak bagging. After a beer at the campsite bar and then a few more down at the Badger Bar in Rydal, it was time to go to bed in prep for the main event.

I think all on the trip would agree that Saturday was a day of two halves. Rain pitter pattered on the tent tarp throughout the night, breaking up sleep, wetting the parkrun field and boggifying any bog up on the Pike of Blisco. A few of us met at 8am in the campsite to walk the lovely track down to Rothay Park which is a lot more scenic than the walk to Woodhouse Moor. We’d all prepped for getting a bit damp, but spirits were high as the rain was seemingly lightening as we approached Rothay Park. We met those staying at another campsite at the start and those jogging down arrived. We also found Hyde Park Harriers who have flown the Leeds nest, Robyn, Andy, and Laura, setting the morning up to be a lovely start to the day. But then the heavens opened.

I think quite a lot of us described this as the wettest parkrun ever. In the last 300m or so, I could barely see, my eyes were stinging as if I’d left mascara on in the shower and I was just praying that I wasn’t going to fall over a tree root. Once I crossed the line, I battled with the rain to desperately get my barcode up on my phone, cursing the fact I’d lost my last plastic one in Canada. We all huddled under a tree, aghast that it was apparently July and those who had not had the pleasure of doing Rothay before, recounting the slightly chaotic nature of this southern Lakeland course.

We rushed to local café Stiles for shelter, post-parkrun breakfast and pre-race fuel. Hilariously, they provide towels for dogs which Sarah Underwood informed us about on the Facebook group whilst a lot of us dashed to cars to pick up bags containing changes of clothes. Considering how we took over the café, I don’t think they would have appreciated us taking away the towels from our doggy friends but as the rain dripped down my nose, I did strongly consider it. Smiles soon returned to faces when presented with food and coffee, and those of us racing in the afternoon could start thinking about how wet it could potentially be under foot in the Langdales.

I definitely can’t blame those in our group who weren’t racing returning to camp as they didn’t fancy a soggy afternoon stood in a field squinting up at a hill. But some of us had a job to do so it was time to head to Langdale valley as the Pike of Blisco beckoned.

We were in luck! As we arrived at race HQ at the Old Dungeon Hotel, the skies cleared and sun appeared. It was hard to believe just hours before we were being drenched to our bones in Ambleside. And now it was time to get to the start line as the men and our cheerleaders took their places to get the best view of the start.

The women’s field was about 130 strong, feeling a lot smaller than the collective fields on the HPH fell champs. As we were getting ready to start, Caite Burke, Vicky and myself were eyeing up the competition and could see that a lot of these women were not here to play – this could be a humbling experience. The race started as a dash (ha ha boom boom) along a flat tarmac road before it started steeply climbing the hill, heading for the hill path. By the time I reached the narrow stone path, I could see all the colourful vests snaking up the hill and I could start to comprehend just how beastly the next hour or so could be.

The ascent was relentless up to 500m. It was well paved, but the stone was slippy and I was already preparing for a spicy descent. I was very glad when the gradient eased and the rocky summit came into view, still about a kilometer away.  Halfway across this plateau, the leading women began to storm past me on their descent, all taking different lines to reach the hill path and all looking very strong. There’s definitely something in enjoying races for longer as you get to see some incredible athleticism and determination when the leaders head back down. The final climb up to the 705m high summit was deliciously scrambly. I’m sure it wouldn’t be a welcome sight for someone without a head for heights, but I love the route finding and the problem solving. After 10 minutes of scramble fun, I could finally see the marshals on the summit. Vicky and Caite both flew past me on the start of their descent, and it was nice to see some familiar vests just as I was about hit the turnaround point.

Dibbing in and quickly turning round to find my way down, I wanted to try and stick with the women I had summited near but quickly I realised why the leading women had been coming from all directions – there’s so many ways to go! After a few changes in direction, other runners came back into my view and I found my way down on to open moorland, the marshals at the top of the steep ascent starting to come back into view.

Soon enough, I was on to the rocky path. Grassy banks did provide some respite but I’m not sure any shoes would have quite delt with just how slippy some of the grass was, bruising my ego (and my back as my phone dug in) when I hit the ground just after some guy told me to trust my shoes more. As I was past by a runner from Durham, she questioned why I was picking the path over the grass and I’m sure my knees would ask the same but having just gone down hard, I was still trying to regain my cool.

The best line down veered completely from the path at one point onto some bog and down I went again just as a passerby was walking up the path. After reassuring her I was ok and trying to decipher whether she was laughing, I ran past Cara Gates cheering which was a welcome boost. Then I could see the top of the tarmac road and the beginning of the end. Just before the road, the familiar snap of Ed Shakespeare’s camera met me and at this point I could tell I was a lot more cheerful than I was at Ingleborough the week before so there was no need to come up with a witty Strava title like Horriblerough. As I went past a lot of men warming up and recce-ing the start of the route, I was very happy to see the 500m to go mark. I could see the lady from Durham not far ahead of me walking but she saw that I was coming and got a move on. After passing the HPH cheer squad, the finish was over a cruel stony bridge but luckily the line came quickly after and just like that it was over.

With about 20 minutes until the men set off, Caite, Vicky and I tried to give them some encouragement and tips, but I was just hoping they would enjoy it as much as I had. The men’s field was more than double the women’s so the start was a bit like a stampede on the stating road. We watched them run past and start up the hill and so the wait began.

In the hour wait for the first HPH man to emerge from the hillside ferns, we chatted to a lovely woman named Edna whose grandson was in the men’s race. She told us she had joined him for his final Wainwright Walla Crag having taken him up his first Wainwright when he was 3 (now 31). After sharing fell stories and being wowed by her own adventures, the winner of the men’s race Matthew Knowles from Lancaster & Morecombe AC came tearing down the road. According to the results, it took him 11 minutes to get down from the 705m high peak which is a little bit ludicrous. When did he get to enjoy the view? After a little while longer, our HPH men started to appear and one-by-one we welcomed Chris Kemp, Joe Lawley, Rich C, Jack Gordon, James Tarbit and James Underwood back to valley level. Some smiles, some grimaces but all very happy about the miraculous weather change. It was then that Joe informed us he had a mighty fall in some bog that was filmed by fell-racing-YouTube sensation Olga British Fells leading to an incredible YouTube feature for Joe that I implore you all to watch!

We decided that a pint at the Old Dungeon Ghyll was an appropriate way to end the afternoon and we were joined by Chloe Wilson, Mig and Cara. At the bar, we were even served by a fellow Hyde Park Harrier working her summer job. Hello Isobel if you’re reading this! See you in September.

The race was followed by a reunion of the whole group at the Badger Bar in Rydal for a hefty tea and story sharing now we were back together. Those not in Langdale valley had a day of getting dry post-parkrun, yoga and exploring the surroundings which is also not a bad way to spend a Saturday. After an evening of chatter, we all took our tired legs to bed, some of us waiting to see what we felt like in the morning before we decided what we wanted to do the next day, some of us certain that a leisurely stroll up nearby fell Loughrigg was all the legs would manage.

Sunday morning started cloudy but before long the sun came out and graced us with some very warm sunshine and bright blue skies. James T, Joe and I took on the Fairfield Horseshoe (at a much more leisurely pace compared to Rich’s on Thursday). A big group went up Loughrigg where there was “heartfelt” singing of happy birthday to Lou and Cara, with a slice of fern bashing after a navigation ‘mishap’. Across the town, Phil H went on a solo mission up Wansfell along apparently with half of Ambleside. For most of us, we then bid farewell to the Lakes, heading back down to Leeds but a lucky few had one more night in this fell paradise.

Blog by Sarah Jewers