Loch Lochy

Results

Four Westies — Niall, Cameron, Peter and myself (plus a friend of Peter’s, who might yet undergo the indoctrination rituals and become a new member) — drove North for the third offering of the Loch Lochy hill race on Saturday. On a weekend that includes Cairn Table, Gargunnock, Glas Tulaichean, and Helensburgh, numbers were always going to be spread, and the organisers were happy to have 44 keen souls turn up. The forecasting monkeys usual predictions of rain, hail, and touches of St Elmo’s fire failed to materialise, and the day offered excellent running conditions: cool, with high cloud and little wind. Lochaber have put some thought into the route, the start in front of a pretty waterfall, heading out along a wide forest track that follows the burn. After crossing a style at the edge of the forest, the going gets heavier as the track meanders through the bog to the first checkpoint at a ruin. I should pause to add that this is a race without any marshals — no-one to offer sweets, water, or words of encouragement. Or to point you in the general direction of the next checkpoint. A model for other hill races, I might suggest! From the ruin, the route turns hill-ward, with the first climb — a long slog up the grassy side of Sron a Choire Gairbh. From the cairn, the route heads south (not south-east, Peter!) down a steep-ish slope, crossing another burn, then grinds upwards along a stony path to Meall na Teanga. Having seen nothing but the back of Peter before he disappeared into the distance shortly after the start, I was a little surprised to hear a deep German voice coming up from behind! A navigational error that was to cost him dearly! After once again being treated to a view of Peter’s rear, I finally started to find some pace as the descent began along Meall Coire Lochain. I overtook Peter and a clutch of other runners, only to make a tactical mistake in crossing the burn — the ground is much more difficult along the fenceline. I lost all my hard-earned gains, and reached the forest path checkpoint neck-and-neck with Peter. We traded places for the next few kilometres, with neither having the (mental) strength to push the pace. Around a mile from the finish the route dips steeply along the side of the waterfall, and I finally managed to pull away from my nemesis, and achieved a rare victory over my stronger opponent. Cameron very thoughtfully met me with a cold beer, which I enjoyed along with a soak in the cool river and some delicious cakes. An outstanding day out, and an excellent example of hill racing in its purest form.