25 miles over Rombolds Moor, Ilkley, and the Chevin, organised by 15th Airedale Scout Group.
Waiting for the 14th Rombolds Stride to start, I couldnt help but notice the diverse range of entrants. Being a winter event (of which there arent that many), and ‘metropolitan’ (within a short drive of several cities) must add to its popularity; and to the inordinately large number of ‘club runners’ who take part.
The serious Club Runners are easy to spot. They pace around before the start, clad in skimpy shorts, fell-running shoes with no socks, and fluorescent yellow vests; and they smell of Deep Heat. A little further down the field are the Casual Runners, distinguished by the absence of co-ordinated gear, tracksters instead of shorts, and larger bum-bags. The Casual Walkers have sensibly small rucksacks and ‘mountain’ trousers. At the end of the field, the Serious Walkers have expedition rucksacks, breeches, sturdy walking boots and, to complete their attire, gaiters and a stick. Where the rules require you to carry a mug, a Club Runner may use a sawn-off plastic cup, but no Serious Walker would be seen out without a heavy enamelled or china mug dangling from his rucksack.
There is one other characteristic – conversation – that marks out the extremes of Club Runner and Serious Walker. Some of the walkers tend to give the impression of being rather bad-tempered towards anyone without an Enamel Mug and Large Rucksack. Personally, I think that an event which encourages such a diverse range of participants can only be good thing. And, in any case, the Rombolds Stride is not an LDWA event, so why shouldnt people run it? The Club Runners tend to be fairly single-minded in their topic of conversation. One sidled up to me once and asked me what training I had done for the event – a question which baffled me somewhat. OK, I suppose I have progressed from Jogging Walker to Casual Runner, but Ive never really viewed them as events to train for.
The first few miles of the Rombolds Stride involve several gates and stiles, so it takes quite a long time for the field to become spread out. So it was, then, arriving at the checkpoint below Baildon Moor I was able to look up towards the snowy skyline and see a long trail of dots winding their way up the moor. Even at that distance I could make out the fluorescent yellow vests of the club runners.
Having just recovered from a cold, and not having done any exercise for three weeks I was not expecting to have a good day. Also, I was intending to run the event in walking boots – a situation dictated by an attempt not to further injure a wrecked ankle. So it was a bit of a surprise when I started to overtake some Fluorescent Vests. Could it be that these Club Runners are only good for a few fast road-miles or a quick sprint up the Chevin, and not for any sustained effort? Err ... No! Later, they all overtook me back. It’s just that wearing sturdy boots and with snow underfoot one can run downhill awfully fast!
Rombolds Moor was snow-covered, with fantastic views. It was cold enough that the ground was not too soggy. I remember an unpleasant slog up here a couple of years ago, in liquid mud. At Whetstone Gate there was hot soup and fairy cakes. At one checkpoint these cakes had been unwrapped for us, but at checkpoints where this had not been done there were, sadly, discarded cake-cases at the 100m mark.
Down the track to Ilkley there was a last-minute short-cut flagged across the moor. This was to avoid some dangerous icy patches on the steep road down to Ilkley Bottom. Contouring round to the Hidden Valley the golf-balls of Menwith Hill were visible amidst the snowy landscape. Route-finding was still fairly easy, with a little line of yellow dots to follow. But there are two places on the Rombolds Stride where I always get lost and where I was determined, this year, not to.
Consequently, when I arrived in Menston village I chose not to follow the person in front, and thereby avoid doing a guided tour of the back-streets. Instead I got my map out and – pay attention! – took the first road on the left after the Methodist chapel. Everyone in sight had run off in a different direction, but I gave a silent cheer of joy when, five minutes later, I ended up at the traditionally elusive railway bridge!
The second route-finding check is on the Chevin. A long, slow, steep, slog up the hillside, past the self-clip point then requires some careful navigation. It is all to easy to carry on up the hill to the top whereas in fact, you have to contour round, and slip through a sneaky stile in a wall, to meet a wide level path which takes you to the checkpoint in the quarry. I was following footprints in the snow, and it was clear that people had been running almost at random along every path in sight. this year, however, I made it without a problem. Having left the checkpoint, walking up the track to the top of the Chevin (more good views) I met a crocodile of six Yellow Vests coming down, who sheepishly admitted they had gone the wrong way. What is the point of wearing a bright yellow vest if you cant reliably be followed around the route?
The Rombolds Stride has had a slightly different route each of the years I have done it, making for a confusingly marked-up OS map. In fact, I think this year’s route might have been closer to 24 miles, if youre counting. Although running the events in boots, I did surprisingly well, finishing in under 5 hours. But I have a useful tip for anyone contemplating running in boots – dont! My ankle is fine, but my legs are now so stiff I can hardly move.