Short and brutal would be one way of describing this event
but that alone would be a little unfair.
I don’t know the history of the event
but the setting and context give this the feeling if not the actual status of a
real classic. Fell running was born out of village fetes and country fairs in
the north of England with local folk competing for a prize and great esteem by
racing up and down the nearest high fell. This is the simple formula for the
Shutlingsloe Fell Race.
Taking place as part of the Wildboarclough Rose Queen Fete
the location is superb not just because of the large country house setting in
the grounds of Crag Hall but for the magnificent view across the valley to
Shutlingsloe and the race route.
Registration was quick and simple and donning number 91 I stood
surveying the challenge ahead. The route was clear to see and not unfamiliar,
I’ve climbed the hill from this side several times in both races and training
runs. However there was a blank on the map as the obvious route down the field
from Crag Hall disappeared into the valley bottom at a point where I knew there
was no direct way up the other side.
Chatting with a runner from the Mow Cop club he explained that the route
became steep, muddy and confined down to the bottom and then climbed on a
permissive route directly through the woods opposite before emerging onto the
farm track leading to the open fell.
Five minutes to go and the field assembled at the start line
with many other local clubs represented including Congleton, Macclesfield,
South Cheshire and Mow Cop. It didn’t take much to work out that a fast start
to avoid any bottlenecks below would be the best tactic. A quick briefing and
then the off, it was soon apparent that the entire field had the same tactic in
mind and I had to work hard to hold my place as we hurtled towards a mud filled
gateway. In no time we reached the bottom and the unexpected (but obvious when
you think about) short and rocky bottomed river crossing, I emerged from the
water and the long hard slog uphill began.
Steep un-runnable ground led up through the forest to the
farm track where it was possible to break into a slow jog. Looking up I could
see the leader in yellow and red a long way ahead and well clear of the field.
Soon I was on the open fell and back to walking as a yellow streak hurtled past
and I gasped out “well done” as the leader headed for home and certain victory.
I plodded on up the steep flanks of Shutlingsloe and emerged on the summit
ridge just as the marshal announced that the leader had crossed the finish
line. As I rounded the trig point I looked back across the valley and there 1
mile away I could see the 2nd and 3rd place runners
approaching the finish.
As those of you who have experienced a fell race on steep
ground will know there is no relief in going down, just a different type of
effort and exertion. Still the change was almost as good as a rest and I soon
waded the river and was climbing the other side of the valley back to Crag
Hall. I reached the finish with great relief and after a shake of hands with
the silver haired gent who had successfully defended his lead over me on the
final climb I collapsed on the grass. It had been a very tough run but it was
good to do a “sprint” event after my recent longer excursions and I lay eyes closed
happily reliving the run. Just when I might have dosed off I was startled by
the prod of a damp muzzle and lick of wet tongue and opened my eyes to see
Andre standing over me. Jill and Andre had cheered me in on the final climb and
now came over full of congratulations. We headed back to the main fete area for
tea and ice cream and enjoyed the rest of the fete before heading home just as
the rains began to fall.
It’s a great little race and it was an enjoyable afternoon out
which I can highly recommend.
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