Lowe Alpine Mountain Marathon LAMM 2018 - 01 & 02/06/2018

"You don't learn to walk by following rules.  You learn by doing, and falling over" - Richard Branson

I like to start my blogposts with a quote which resonates somehow with the race, whilst this one is a great simple message anyone can get on board with, it has a more literal meaning when I think about my experience at this event which makes me chuckle.  If you read on you'll probably figure out why.

A mountain marathon is an orienteering based race often run in pairs typically over two days in remote mountain areas.  Favoured by fell runners and outdoorsy types, these events are a curiously British phenomenon, the most famous of which have become institutions amongst the fell running community and long pre-date the import of ultra trail running to the UK.

I have read about some of the classic races such as the OMM, LAMM and Saunders and have been wanting to have a crack at one for a long time.  When Andy asked me to step in for his partner at the LAMM I jumped at the chance.  My major challenge for 2019 is the Dragon's Back Race at which Mountain Marathoners have a proven track record of success, what a perfect way to get some practice in and see what it's all about.

This would be the 40th and final LAMM which is considered by some to be the connoisseurs mountain marathon.  Martin Stone the race organiser was obviously determined to go out with a bang. He'd set himself an enormous logistical challenge of holding the race on Harris.  It would be the largest sporting event ever hosted in the outer Hebrides with around 400 pairs taking part and some of the best known faces in UK mountain running had shown up for this special last edition.  All profits from the race would go to charity which I think is just brilliant.

The twin propelled flight to Stornoway was the first amazing part of this trip with a bluebird day revealing incredible views of the mountains of the North West, Skye and the Hebrides.  Squirming around in my seat I could pick out the individual Munros of Torridon and the routes I had used to climb them with my dad over the years.

The Callanish Stones

Luskentyre Beach

Wild Camp Port of Ness

After a few days exploring Lewis and Harris, wild-camping, cake eating, beach combing and bus riding our way around this beautiful island in glorious sunshine, we finally arrived at race hq in Tarbert.  After troughing an excellent meal courtesy of the Wilf's team who had travelled from the Lakes to feed us all, we hit the hay ready for a long two days in the wild hills of Harris.

With this being my first mountain marathon there was quite a lot of new stuff to take on.  Sure I can run and navigate ok but I'm not used to running with enough kit to be self sufficient for two days out in the mountains including tent, bed and food.  I packed and repacked ensuring I had everything, including the all important titanium spoon.  Andy mocked me for taking the luxury of a clean buff for day two, those extra few grams don't carry themselves you know!

In this race, as is typical with the larger mountain marathons there were a number of graded routes requiring you to visit various checkpoints depending upon the difficulty, Elite,A,B,C and D with an additional points 'score' race with points being awarded for the number and difficulty of checkpoints visited within seven hours.  Everyone must finish the first day at the same overnight camp and then run to the same finish on the second day.  We were on course B which promised around 25km and 1,500 metres per day.

Other competitors descending from Clisham

We were treated to a first day of a tough mountain journey with the most incredible backdrop taking in a climb of Clisham, the highest mountain in the Outer Hebrides.  The ground was tough going but dry, however I still managed to locate the remaining stagnant bogs (up to the hip) with plenty of falling over scratching legs and bloodying elbows thrown in - fun!  Red deer looked down at us from the mountain ridges around, confused I'm sure by so many people disturbing their peace.  Andy managed to stay on his feet far better than me (which was not hard to be honest) he also had to contend with carrying the map most of the day as I leant hard on him for his experience and tried to soak up some knowledge.

Almost there lad

The first view of our overnight camp will live long in the memory.  One of the most beautiful beaches I have ever visited, turquoise waters and coral sand straight from the Caribbean, with an unmistakably Scottish mountain backdrop - paradise in the sunshine.  Overnight we were around 2/3rds of the way down the field.  One or two sub optimal route choices and the heat had combinef to make for a tough but unforgettable day.

Andy descending to our campsite for the night

Arriving around four pm, I wondered what we would get up to for the next seven hours. I began to understand one of the less obvious reasons for bringing a four course meal - killing time cooking!  Another amusing pastime amongst other teams was the inflation of their modelling balloon beds (no I couldn't believe it was a thing either) which whilst light, appeared to offer an equal amount of frustration and not so much comfort.  To be honest there were worse places to be stranded with nothing to do but bathe the tired legs in the turquoise ocean, relax and chat. It was great to share stories of the day with my friend Pete Wilkie who featured in my Hardmoors 110 adventure last year.

Lucky for us (or was it?) the piper had managed to drag himself, sporran and pipes somehow to this remote beach just to give us our morning call at 5.30 am.  To be honest I had been awake for hours as our accommodation was not conducive for the best nights sleep.  Turns out race tents are not designed for comfort - who knew? We both resisted the temptation 'accidentally' boot each other in the head, what good colleagues and team mates we are :-)

Look a road - run!

As we were not amongst the fastest teams on day one, we were able to choose our start time so we cracked on straight away after a breakfast of powdered milk, granola and leftover cake.  The day started again under a humid clag which then burned away for another scorching afternoon with incredible views of sea and mountains in every direction.  We made much better progress, easily keeping pace with some of the faster teams from day one which were now obvious from the numbers which they had been issued for the chasing start.  It appeared that some pairs had forgotten it was a two day event and left it all out there on the Friday.  The day was longer and contained some killer climbs, but was also more runnable.  At times though it felt like these must be the hardest 300 metre hills to climb on the planet!  

A couple of sub optimal route choices left us on rather exposed and steep terrain which really slowed progress at times.  On balance we made more good route decisions than bad over the weekend, but there's certainly room for improvement.

Selfie - just to show I wuz ere

As another scorching afternoon drew to a close, Andy got a sniff of the finish and positively bounded the last couple of downhill miles down to Tarbert fuelled by a magic Clif Blok.  We arrived sweaty and tired but well satisfied with a brilliant adventure.

Alas, our improved second day performance would not be going down in the record books.  Somehow we had missed a checkpoint and been effectively disqualified!  I think the sweat had rubbed off the pencil we used on the map to plot our route and we only realised our mistake when we logged our dibber data at the end.  In hindsight, alarm bells should have sounded when we spotted a pair much higher up on the mountain traversing when we took the much more direct route down a remote valley. We thought they had gone wrong and felt rather pleased with ourselves at the time!  We could see though, even after allowing for this small advantage we would have placed around halfway down the field for the event.  Surprisingly, neither of us seemed much bothered by this rather glaring error.  After all we'd had such a blast.

Turn back - the checkpoint is behind you!

All that remained was to have the most welcome shower ever, drink a pint in the sunshine, eat a tasty fish dinner and go about the rather grim and painstaking activity of tick extraction (more about that some other time perhaps).

Thanks for reading, here's a great little film with some lovely drone footage of the race and that amazing beach.  You can also find my shots from the trip on my Flickr account here

What a lucky guy to be invited to the last ever LAMM.  I had heard other veterans talk about the 1997 LAMM 'classic' on Jura and how this event had surpassed even that.  I'm not sure it gets any better than this, perhaps I'll quit whilst I'm ahead.  Only joking of course, already looking to recruit some pals for a crack at the OMM or Saunders next year - who's in?