TEBAY JUST TOPS THE BILL
TEBAY FELL RACE
For a classic midweek evening fell race it is fair to say that I have had my head turned by the glories of Blencathra in recent times. It's a few years since I've managed to get up to my old favourite at Tebay, but on this long overdue return I think it may just about have stolen back my affection for top billing. For a start off, I love the Howgills. Distinctive by their contrast to the rest of the Cumbrian fell set, these huge green lumps of mountainous beauty stand out by their sheer mass and endlessly fascinating curvature which rolls out Eastwards in to North Yorkshire. To admire them from below and afar is satisfaction in itself. To be up there, running up and down them... amazing. It's been way too long.
The route of the Tebay race touches the Western fringes of the range, visible on approach as the M6 gets as spectacular as any section of motorway can in this country. The road and mainline railway meet side by side, literally carving through the base of the valley that splits the Howgills from the craggier Birbeck Fells. This is what my well fell weathered Mum considers to be the gateway to proper Northern wild country! I'm inclined to agree.
When I say I'm doing the Tebay race, those not in the know think it's a long way to go on a weekday night, what's so special about Tebay? It's a motorway services isn't it? Tebay is a rustic village of mainly terraced cottages, built on the back of it's former prominence as a major railway yard and junction. The place has probably lost a little bit of it's soul like many of it's kind over the years. But rather than just another cluster of lettings owned by people from Surrey, there are some genuine signs of industry, self sufficiency, proper local life and community still here. Race headquarters at the working man's club is charmingly old school and the recreation ground from where the race starts from most certainly isn't under threat by a tyrant borough council bowing to the pressures of toy town housing developers, unlike in my neck of the woods and the rapidly diminishing green spaces of South Ribble.
The first couple of miles of the race route are pretty unspectacular to be fair. First timers racing on the back of my endearing review would have a right to ask what all the fuss is about. A gradual incline crossing from choppy moorland to farm track and back again on a crow flies line to Ellergill Beck. Even the first climb of distinction up Rispa Pike is just a tough upward plough through long grass and tussock with nowt much to get excited about other than the relief of nearing the top of it. Runaway race leader and man of the moment Carl Bell was almost at the top of it by the time I'd started from the Beck. An incredible talent is that guy. Once upon that broad plateau and over the next mile or so, this could still just seem like your Average Joe race over rugged moorland. Then things change all of a sudden. Just shy of the second checkpoint there's a little steeper slant for twenty yards upon the seemingly featureless mound which has been on the horizon for the last ten minutes. Then that's it - a moment that took my breath away the first time I did this race and has done every time since - the whole of the Howgills opens up in to view and suddenly you realise how high you have climbed already. This is Uldale Head and it's a fabulous reward for a laborious slog until that point. Then you know you are in the Howgills and the racing from here is spectacular. No matter how serious a runner one might be, if you can't afford yourself the odd glance of the awesome landscape around you and suck it all in, then the question would have to be, what the hell are you doing racing up there in the first place?
Up to this point I was holding my own. Briefly I had dreams of sitting on Chorley's Darren Fishwick. Not in a literal sense of course, although that might be one way of stopping him going past me. I haven't beaten Daz in a good few years and I'd say he is much stronger and certainly more consistent in recent times than ever, so it will take some doing. But both he and a small pack had got away from me by about a minute up to Uldale, but I sensed I was somewhere in the top twenty and was ticking over fine on a sweltering evening. It was a ridiculous 27 degrees fahrenheit when we kicked off on the Tebay Recreation Ground at 7:00pm. The drop off Uldale Head is quite sudden and I had nobody in view to follow. Faint trods forked off in various directions and whilst a straight ahead bearing down the middle made sense off memory, I found myself sucked in to the most trodden trod to the left. Descending quite steeply, I still couldn't see anyone ahead which was strange. I realised the error of my ways and started cutting off back over to the right and the middle line that I should have taken in the first place. But still, weirdly, I couldn't see Fishwick and Co scrambling up the opposite hillside. As I started that scramble myself after crossing the beck, low to my right and behold, a Fishwick appears with that posse still following him. They had gone way over to the right it seems, or somewhere. Only Darren knows for sure. One thing I wasn't expecting in this race was to get back ahead of Daz by this point, but after following me along the traverse towards Black Force he took his chance and got ahead again, by maybe two minutes by the time we'd ticked the next summit of Linghaw off and descended to the base of Blease Fell for the final big climb. His group of hangers on followed, some over enthusiastically with the main event still to come. I may have inadvertently shot up in to the top ten somewhere, but lost those places again eventually. Oddly, I couldn't descend quick if I'd tried that evening. Whilst getting my uphill game in to better order, my much stronger downhill skills deserted me. My knees were a bit achey and I just couldn't let my legs go. That wasn't a bad thing here though, as the very business end of the race was still to be ironed out and an empty tank at the bottom of Blease Fell isn't a pleasant experience. Been there and done that one before. Instead I was climbing pretty well, picking a few places back and catching some of Daz's cluster. But by now, he'd burned them off a bit up this big steep slog of a climb and caught up with another solid fell machine I would like to get nearer to, Mark Chippendale of Bowland. It's deceptive on these steep climbs just how far you are behind other runners. It seemed as if I had caught up with Fishwick and Chippendale after they had been out of view on the long descent from Linghaw. What looked like a minute behind these two on the climb was obviously more as when the running begins again off the summit, the black and white stripes of Chorley and the orange and green of Bowland looked half a mile away. My legs just wouldn't kick in to a decent rhythm for the gradual downhill two miles or so off Blease Fell back to Tebay. After losing a couple of places straight away after the summit checkpoint, I did enough to get one back and was somehow holding my place, although in some disbelief really. I was waiting for the cavalry to arrive at any moment as I didn't feel I was moving at all quick enough to sustain my position. The breathing tackle felt fine, but the legs just wouldn't stretch out. I took a few dodgy route choices which needlessly put me through some energy sapping rougher stuff and cost some seconds. Near the finish when company did finally merge on my tail, we all had different ideas where the farm gate off the fell might be situated. The finish line isn't far through that gate. I remembered the track we were running on and that the gate was hidden by the grassy mounds to the left - whereabouts exactly I just daren't gamble. Then Bowland's Sam Harrison and former Nemesis from my time at Chorley Harriers, Dominic Raby, came shifting by and I briefly got distracted by this, setting out to stay with Dom. History tells me trusting Dominic's navigation isn't wise though, so keeping an eye out to my left, a Borrowdale runner had taken the plunge and cut off the track and on to the grass. So I veered off back towards him and once realising he'd got the correct line to the gate, I gave Dominic a shout. But Dom either didn't hear me or was just too focused on the Bowland lad just ahead as these two stuck rigidly to the slightly longer route on the farm track. Well I wasn't going to shout him over twice! I managed to cut them up before the gate and keep the Raby behind me just about, but the young Bowlander Harrison and the Borrowdale guy had that bit of kick to see me off just before we turned back in to the recreation ground. A retrospective disappointment was that this cost me sneakage in to the top fifteen. As for Darren Fishwick, so good at the moment he beat me twice! He must have flown off that final summit, burning Chippendale off by two minutes and moving up to eighth place - more than four minutes on me in the end. I tried not to beat myself up with a time of 1.35, which is tough when I have done 1.21... but I was in tip top form then, the weather was far cooler that night... and, well I was a bit younger. Studying time comparisons from fell races can be a pretty irrelevant pass-time in any case, for realistically never in a million years would I be good enough to get within ten, let alone five minutes of the night's race winner on this or any course.
What a great race though. A truly great race and a tough one. Staying fit enough to make this one an annual habit again would be well worth the toil.

Wedneday 28th June 2018
TEBAY FELL RACE   8m/3000ft   Tebay, Cumbria
1st Man - Carl Bell (Keswick) 1.16:39
1st Lady - Clare Nance (Lonsdale FR) 1.43:55
My Stats - 1.35:44   17/82