The Devil O’ The Highlands – April 2026 – from the perspective of an ultra-newbie and an ultra-veteran.

Andrea

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It was my first ultramarathon. Not only that, but I had skipped the marathon distance. Well, I had technically run a marathon distance before (twice, in training for the Devil!), but never in competition. Everything was new to me. The distance, the drop bags, the poles, the 6am start.

But it was the best of times. The day started early, rising at 3.30am in a hostel in Crianlarich where myself, Lynne, Wiebke, and Lynda had stayed the night to avoid a long travel to the start in Tyndrum. The first three of us were running, and Lynda was volunteering and going to be stationed at Glencoe. We arrived bundled up in the cold but clear morning just after 4am at the Green Welly. We were almost the first people there. Breakfast, cup of tea, leaving drop bags, packing snacks into the right compartments, mixing electrolytes, deciding how many layers to wear, and most importantly: putting on suncream for the sunny run ahead! It felt absurd to do in the early morning before the sun was even up. Time passed quickly, and it was suddenly time to shed the layers that had kept us warm and go outside.

Together with Lynne and Wiebke at the start line, I felt excited to get going. It was going to be a beautiful journey through the highlands. Training since January (when my top distance was 34km) had been hard, but I had been keeping at it 6 days a week, and as of a week before, my legs didn’t ache anymore from the training regime, and I had finally started to feel a bit fresher. Now I was eager to see what I could do. Wiebke believed that I could break 10 hours. She made me believe it too, and being a bit overly ambitious, I had my goal set on somewhere between 9 and 10 hours.

The first part of the route to Bridge of Orchy felt like a breeze. Wiebke was somewhere behind us (not far I think), and Lynne and I were running alongside each other for long stretches of the way and loving life. It felt amazing to be running, to watch the sun rise over the mountains, and to feel the camaraderie with the other runners who had decided to embark on this same crazy journey. I quickly discovered that my strengths lay in ascending and descending, where I would generally overtake other runners, but I was slower on the flat parts.

Wiebke

I have not much more to add to Andrea’s intro, only to mention that we had booked ourselves into the Crianlarich hostel specifically to be closer to the start so that we could avoid a 3am wake-up call. That is…until we realised that Lynda, as a volunteer and who happened to be our driver, had to be at the start by 4:15am! Best laid plans and all that…! Kind of hilarious really. Is it even an ultramarathon if you do not get up at some godforsaken hour in the middle of the night? I don’t think so!

We greeted some more Westies at the start, Clodagh, Alison, Ossian, Theo and Lex. We wished each other best of luck, and by 6am a long conga line of eager ultra runners snaked its way to Bridge of Orchy. On that first section I tried to keep Andrea and Lynne in my sight but as they steadily pulled away, I told myself not to get frazzled and “run my own race”. I had set myself a 10-hour target, which for me seemed to straddle the line between “ambitious” and “possible”.

Andrea

And then it was the worst of times. Rannoch moor. At this point I had lost Lynne (who had stopped for a loooong wee, as she later told me); I didn’t know if she was 30 seconds behind me or several minutes. I was both happy to be ahead, but also lonely and in need of a friend. I had lost the initial excitement of the race, and as the moor stretched out in front of me, I found it hard to focus on my own race. Even though I was eating, I kept getting more and more fatigued, and my morale was lowered by everyone overtaking me. Where was Lynne; where was Wiebke? Surely, they were gaining on me? Was that good or bad? I started feeling stressed but also hoped that I would be caught so I could get some support. I tried to think about seeing Lynda at Glencoe. But would I even make it there? I started thinking that if I didn’t feel better soon, I might need to drop out at Glencoe.

Eventually, after having tried every snack in my bag to regain energy, I decided to stop for a second to shed a layer and get my poles out as a final resort. At this point, Lynne (finally a friend!) caught up with me and we ran a stretch together again. Slowly, with the company and the poles, I started regaining energy and suddenly we were descending towards Glencoe. I made up some time again and came into the check point a few minutes before Lynne. It was amazing to get support from Lynda and all the other wonderful people who were volunteering for the race. When we left Glencoe, I had had a few more snacks, a lot more water, a chat and a selfie with Lynda and Lynne, and I felt like I was back in the race.

Wiebke

On the long slog over Rannoch Moor I also felt sluggish, it easily happens when the landscape is not changing much, when you can see quite far ahead and feel like the miles are ticking by in snail pace. I caught myself thinking “Oh man, I am not loving this!” but I practiced what I call “uncompromising positivity” and rephrased my sentiment immediately. “NO! I AM LOVING THIS! THIS IS THE BEST” A little bit of self-manipulation goes a long way!

The thought of seeing Lynda at Glencoe motivated me to shuffle along as well as the ambition not to fall too far behind Andrea and Lynne, even though I could not see either of them ahead of me. For all I knew they could be halfway up Devil’s Staircase. However, as I approached the check point, I saw Lynne just leaving and running down the road to the A82 crossing. “GO LYNNE!” I shouted but she did not hear me, she was in the zone!

How exciting to see her not too far ahead! I tried to get through my check point routine as quickly and efficiently as possible (one new bottle with Tailwind, one with LMNT, new snacks, quick toilet break) and I was on my way, hunting my friend down.

Andrea

The next stretch was wonderful. Approaching the Devil’s Staircase, I felt strong as I was poling away, truly feeling like I was cross-country skiing instead of running. At this point, it was hot, and the staircase was tough, but nowhere near as tough as hills in a hill race. The race spirit had gotten back to me, and whilst I was climbing, I kept looking down to try to spot Lynne and Wiebke, but they were nowhere to be seen. I gained a lot on other runners on the climb, and I felt happy as I was greeted by the beautiful view of the mountains on the other side upon reaching the top. And there, not far away, was Kinlochleven!

But it was far away. The descent into Kinlochleven, which started off nice, turned out to be never-ending. By the time I was down there, I felt depleted again. But there was Anna, and Lynda again (how did she get there from Glencoe so quickly? My tired brain was very confused)! I was again saved by friends who help me top up my bottles and get rid of my rubbish whilst I went to the loo. After a quick chat and some much-needed praise and encouragement, I was on the road again, before anyone else I knew had even come into the check point.

Wiebke

I worked hard over the bit to the Devil’s Staircase trying to close the gap to Lynne and once I started the climb I spotted her way up along the switchbacks towards the top. After I crested the top and followed that beautiful summit area, I was certain that I was gaining on her. But that meant things must have gone badly for her, and she was likely not in a great place. As much as it is fun to chase and catch a pal, it is heartbreaking to see them suffer.

Eventually I caught her just before the descent into Kinlochleven. Lynne said her hip gave her grief and that she was not sure if she could carry on after the next checkpoint. I hung around for a minute but started to pull away as Lynne could not move with her usual ease. She then shouted: “Don’t stick around for me!” (which in ultrarunning language basically means “Leave me and safe yourself!”). I asked “Do you have enough food?” (ultrarunning language for “Farewell, I shall never see you again…until the finish line that is”) and ran away.  

Instantly I lost my mind and thought “wow, maybe I can catch Andrea as well” and sprinted off far too quickly only to feel sick in the blaring sunshine. RUN YOUR OWN RACE! I came into Kinlochleven 10 minutes ahead of my target time, but I could feel that the heat was taking its toll and that the last section would be slower. Lynda and Anna were at the checkpoint, and it was a real joy to see them both there. I asked when Andrea had passed through and Anna reckoned maybe some 15 minutes ago. I decided not to put too much weight on to that information but to use it as motivation to push me through the last glen towards Lundavra and the finish.

Mere minutes after me Lynne rocked up in Kinlochleven with a level of determination in her eyes that I have rarely witnessed. I asked her how she was feeling and if she would carry on. Without any hesitation and with a firm voice she declared “There is NO WAY I am stopping this race!” Damn women, good on you! But also…Damn! I better get going because this lady is on a mission! I never powered up the hill out of Kinlochleven with more purpose expecting to see Lynne behind me knowing what a strong climber she is!

Andrea

As with most of the other legs in the race, Kinlochleven to Lundavra turned out to first be fun, and then gradually turned into a drag where I had to keep digging deep to get my pace down from 9.30 min/km, which my body wanted to go at, to between 8-8.30 min/km. At this point, the field was strung out and there were long stretches of path before overtaking someone or being overtaken by someone. But at least the path was softer and nicer to run on that on my behated Rannoch moor. I tried to make use of all the mental tricks that Wiebke had taught me on our recces on the same stretch – think about our memories together here, look for landmarks (the ruin, the second ruin, the little patch of trees). I spent an incredibly long time doing some mental maths in my tired brain trying to work out my predicted finish time: 9 hours 40 minutes. Could that be right? Could I break 10 hours?

I did not. But in the end, it didn’t matter the slightest to me. The final stretch from Lundavra to the finish line was tough. Really tough. I didn’t want to eat more gels or snacks, I started having stomach cramps, it was painful to run downhill and I was too sluggish to run uphill. But watermelon hill was a joyful surprise that I did not know about, and the fresh flavour of the watermelon after all the sweets was welcomed. Then it was trundle, trundle towards the finish. I sorely needed to be cheered on on this stretch, and I did get a few “well done” from hikers, but it was not really enough to keep my mind off the stomach cramps. I told myself that I had no excuse to run so slowly when the forestry track was gently descending, and I managed to get myself up to a whopping pace of 7.30 min/km on the downhill. Finally, the long stretch on the forestry track ended, and I’ve never been happier to see a hill than when I saw Cow Hill. Almost there! Thinking about my friends and partner who would greet me at the finish line, I overtook other runners on this stretch and pushed the hardest I could to the finish. The 10-hour mark came and went when I was on top of Cow Hill, but 6 minutes later, I crossed the finish line, and I was well and truly finished.

10:06:43. But what does the time matter? Thinking back, I am proud of myself for the achievement, but it was sharing it with loved ones which made the difference: running with Wiebke, Lynne and Lex; meeting Lynda and Anna along the way; and being cheered by Will, Liene, and Maggie at the finish line. Some cliches are true; it was truly the journey and the people that mattered.

Wiebke

The last stretch was painful. The vision of Andrea ahead and the threat of Lynne in my back motivated me to keep “running”, but it was more of a hobble and did not feel particularly comfortable. The minutes ticked away quicker than the miles passed and when I eventually reached the big forest track that leads into Glen Nevis, I knew the 10-hour target was gone. So, I stopped at the watermelon station there and stuffed my face for a little while.

Full of delicious watermelon and oranges and content with life I trotted the track down into Glen Nevis and to the Braveheart car park, then rounded Cow Hill and crossed the finish line around 4:30pm, 10 hours and 33 minutes after leaving Tyndrum. 

Lynne came storming into the finish a little while after Andrea and myself. Her performance of pure grit and pushing through tough times was really inspiring to witness. Totally my hero of the race!

We’re all winners, baby!

We hung around the finish line for a little while celebrating our achievements and soaking in the atmosphere before we had pizza and then dispersed to our various sleeping quarters around Fort William and Glen Nevis. The next morning we found each other again for breakfast before taking the bus home. A wonderful weekend spent in excellent company with a little ultramarathon sprinkled in between.

Some devils and their supporters