2007 is shaping up to be quite a year; we'll never forget it. April was a hot and dry month, and all the preceding weeks were dry(ish) as I prepared for the London Marathon.
Almost from that time onwards though it seems, it has rained and rained and...
Last week came crunch time though when heavy rain fell and the ground could no longer sponge it up.
Northern and central England had already been hit by flooding. Those places had not even had time to recover when more rain fell. One day in particular the forecaster warned people to expect 4 to 5 inches of rain. I have never heard of such a thing and doubted if it was possible. It was possible! As I write, Tewkesbury, Upton on Severn and Gloucester are all flooded badly - this is July remember. Tenbury Wells has been flooded on two separate occasions by the Teme escaping and causing trouble in the main streets of the town. This caused me to pay attention as Tenbury is downstream of Ludlow and of course Knighton. I have watched for word of Knighton but it has not been mentioned on the news, luckily. Hard to believe that the town has escaped flooding; it just doesn't appear on the medias' list of important places whereas Cotswold towns and smart Worcestershire villages are 'real'.
Word came this morning from Rosie via a text message that they were on holiday in a youth hostel in Northumbria. Apparently the journey was not without incident as the car was actually floating at Bucknell near Knighton. Sally has surprised me by sticking it out and continuing. Most impressed.
Locally the weather has been less scary though my friend Pete has told of an epic cycle home through the floods to get back from Swindon to Chippenham. On Saturday we visited Lacock to see what the water looked like and the road was flooded badly at Lacock Abbey and at Reybridge where the water was too deep for Land Rovers! Upstream of Chippenham the road was flooded at the Maud Heath causeway crossing of the Avon at Kellaways. I visited Kellaways on Sunday and although the flood had receded it was still deep enough to be unwise to drive a normal car through and the tide mark of mud left behind suggested that it had been two feet deeper!
Beanacre, Melksham and Bradford on Avon all had their own flood problems. Not sure whether the waters have reached Bath yet or if the excellent wiers at Pulteney Bridge and Newbridge have prevented any bad inundation.
Monday 23 July 2007
Monday 16 July 2007
School art exhibition
Went up to Lisa's school last week; some of her work had been selected for display. I wasn't expecting much from a comprehensive school's art room. I was wrong! I could have spent twice as long there, getting really involved in the work of various different years, some of it 'A' level, some for GCSE and some just course work. One or two of the works stopped me in my tracks. I thought back to my own days doing art at school and realised that, despite my almost continual denigration of modern education, the art was much advanced from that which we were doing in the 1970s. Partly this may be down to the way in which the exams are marked. Our work had to be of a suitable size and structure for transporting away to be marked for 'O' or 'A' level assessment. This meant there were size limits, limits on the sort of materials we could use etc. This no longer seems to be the case. One particularly eye-catching work is a good example. It was enormous and would have fallen well outside the limits in my day. But most importantly it was hugely inspirational, a painting on a board made up of various pieces of paper and textile. The theme was the bombings of the Tube system on 7/7/2005. Blacks and greys predominated. Alright it is a gruesome subject but that never bothered artists in the past! I can't say I want that painting on the wall of my sitting room but I can honestly say that have seen many paintings in galleries and exhibitions that are not it's equal. It is dark and frightening and evocative. I hope the artist did not have to endure that frightening day in person but he or she certainly provoked me to consider what it was like to be caught up in a smoke filled tunnel deep beneath the surface of London.
There were the usual collections of work from various years throughout the school, and sometimes you feel that you can tell who sits next to whom, but liberally scattered throughout the art rooms were paintings and sculpture which made you yearn to have had that idea yourself, or to be able to paint or draw just like that, or just to have been that original and creative in the past!
Most importantly I came away with one new notion: to go into town and buy a sketch pad and some pencils or charcoal and do something myself for the first time since school.
There were the usual collections of work from various years throughout the school, and sometimes you feel that you can tell who sits next to whom, but liberally scattered throughout the art rooms were paintings and sculpture which made you yearn to have had that idea yourself, or to be able to paint or draw just like that, or just to have been that original and creative in the past!
Most importantly I came away with one new notion: to go into town and buy a sketch pad and some pencils or charcoal and do something myself for the first time since school.
Monday 9 July 2007
Golden Cap Challenge
This weekend was the Charmouth to Golden Cap Challenge. It's a rather hilly race and held under fell race rules. How they differ I have no idea but they weren't kidding if they likened it to a fell race!
The start of the 8 mile race is through the back streets of Charmouth in Dorset then it takes to the rural lanes and immediately climbs a steep,narrow tarmac lane through a wood, and then just before the first mile is done, it gets onto looser surface. Pretty soon comes a water station and it is popular despite coming so soon. The Chippenham Harriers seem to have taken it over (following their success watering the Cotswold Relay last week)
There follows a more level section. It's an illusion of course, as soon we can see our fellow runners, the tearaways, up way ahead and more to the point, way above us.
Despite the heat and maybe because of the climb, it is cooler up here. Subsequent water stations get ignored by me.
Eventually though we are at the real top, only to be tormented again by the level of concentration and sheer effort of descending. No rest here at all, just a different sort of hard work! The surface is mostly grass but the gritty, worn patches are a bit scary as the stones cause you to slide. I choose grass where it is available as I feel I can slow myself a bit better here. I never forget my nick-name in the Harriers: Birdman. Am I going to go flying this time too? My luck seems to hold however, only one slight trip in the whole race.
Down to a boggy section under the trees. Nothing to worry those of us who have run Dursley or Sodbury. We start to climb to the highest point in the race. Moreover, Golden Cap is the highest point on the south coast of England. The path has been eroded in the past by heavy use as part of the South West Coast Path and has wooden steps built into it. These are a mixed blessing. Usually they are a help but of course this depends if they suit your leg length and stride. A shorter runner might prefer no steps. I suffer; we all do, but I make it to the top without walking. This really is my specialist subject so I can't walk this! The top is billiard table smooth but only for about 200 yards and then it's down, but down with a vengeance: more of those steps. On the way down they are treacherous. I am very wary of a trip or a twisted ankle. The steps had path material built up behind them once but now the steps themselves are worn and eroded and are a real tripping hazard. Somehow it all goes well and steps give way to open steep grassland and I am able to let myself go, somewhat recklessly. A level section allows me to look around and I realise that the last climb is almost as big as Golden Cap and in fact it is the hardest of the three hills. More Harriers shouting support at the top and I finally see tiny Charmouth down below me. The way is barred by a succession of stiles and gates and the path is 'improved' by more of those steps but I'm getting into my stride now. I'm passing more cautious, more sane, runners as I quick step and jive down through the steps and finally reach the narrow footbridge just before the finish. A final moment of worry as a toddler plays right into my path on the bridge but his guardian angel wisks him aside just in time.
In the school play-ground the Fire Brigade are spraying over-heated runners and many of us are showing signs of sunburn. It's true; the sun causes premature ageing. I feel a hundred years old...
I drink and I drink. One competitor is loaded into an ambulance, worried Axe Valley runners gathered around her. I think she is the runner who has been with me for the majority of the race. Thanking my luck that I seem to thrive in the heat.
Club-mates arrive in the finish funnel and I start to realise that I have done rather well and am 3rd Harrier and 2nd vet. My time is 1:10:39 giving me 73rd place. Great but 17 mins slower than the winner!
The weekend was spent camping at Seatown, an ambitiously named hamlet to the east of Golden Cap. The campsite is first class and so is the pub, the Anchor, which feels unimproved and historic but still seems to have everything in place for the 21st century patron. I love this sort of pub. Our first evening is spent on the front terrace of the pub, drinking a range of Palmer's Ales. Caution is thrown to the wind a little (a lot by some members of the club, though I remember that some of them are not racing the next day) I seem to be up all night for a succession of 'pees' and then before dawn I get up and walk to the top of the first hill to watch the sun appear. Back down from the hill I see the sun rise again - now that's a first for me! I have a walk on the beach towards Golden Cap and find a few fossils including a perfect 2" diameter Ammonite. Other fossils are visible, some I recognise from books I have read. Later we return and a man is chipping a dinosaur bone from the cliff face.
During the Golden Cap Challenge Lynne goes off with Lisa, and her friend Kirsty, to a donkey sanctuary near Seaton 25 miles to the west. They come back itching and sneezing. A donkey allergy? It sounds fun though, Lynne's sort of thing.
Later, after the race, we have a club barbecue which defies the smoke free regulations enforced last week by being more like a charcoal burners' convention. The food is good though and I have more than my fill, plus a bottle of red stuff.
Sunday is spent visiting Weymouth, though the rest of the club pack up and leave. We return to the camp-site in the afternoon and take the tent down ten minutes too late to avoid getting it wet in the only rain of the weekend...
The start of the 8 mile race is through the back streets of Charmouth in Dorset then it takes to the rural lanes and immediately climbs a steep,narrow tarmac lane through a wood, and then just before the first mile is done, it gets onto looser surface. Pretty soon comes a water station and it is popular despite coming so soon. The Chippenham Harriers seem to have taken it over (following their success watering the Cotswold Relay last week)
There follows a more level section. It's an illusion of course, as soon we can see our fellow runners, the tearaways, up way ahead and more to the point, way above us.
Despite the heat and maybe because of the climb, it is cooler up here. Subsequent water stations get ignored by me.
Eventually though we are at the real top, only to be tormented again by the level of concentration and sheer effort of descending. No rest here at all, just a different sort of hard work! The surface is mostly grass but the gritty, worn patches are a bit scary as the stones cause you to slide. I choose grass where it is available as I feel I can slow myself a bit better here. I never forget my nick-name in the Harriers: Birdman. Am I going to go flying this time too? My luck seems to hold however, only one slight trip in the whole race.
Down to a boggy section under the trees. Nothing to worry those of us who have run Dursley or Sodbury. We start to climb to the highest point in the race. Moreover, Golden Cap is the highest point on the south coast of England. The path has been eroded in the past by heavy use as part of the South West Coast Path and has wooden steps built into it. These are a mixed blessing. Usually they are a help but of course this depends if they suit your leg length and stride. A shorter runner might prefer no steps. I suffer; we all do, but I make it to the top without walking. This really is my specialist subject so I can't walk this! The top is billiard table smooth but only for about 200 yards and then it's down, but down with a vengeance: more of those steps. On the way down they are treacherous. I am very wary of a trip or a twisted ankle. The steps had path material built up behind them once but now the steps themselves are worn and eroded and are a real tripping hazard. Somehow it all goes well and steps give way to open steep grassland and I am able to let myself go, somewhat recklessly. A level section allows me to look around and I realise that the last climb is almost as big as Golden Cap and in fact it is the hardest of the three hills. More Harriers shouting support at the top and I finally see tiny Charmouth down below me. The way is barred by a succession of stiles and gates and the path is 'improved' by more of those steps but I'm getting into my stride now. I'm passing more cautious, more sane, runners as I quick step and jive down through the steps and finally reach the narrow footbridge just before the finish. A final moment of worry as a toddler plays right into my path on the bridge but his guardian angel wisks him aside just in time.
In the school play-ground the Fire Brigade are spraying over-heated runners and many of us are showing signs of sunburn. It's true; the sun causes premature ageing. I feel a hundred years old...
I drink and I drink. One competitor is loaded into an ambulance, worried Axe Valley runners gathered around her. I think she is the runner who has been with me for the majority of the race. Thanking my luck that I seem to thrive in the heat.
Club-mates arrive in the finish funnel and I start to realise that I have done rather well and am 3rd Harrier and 2nd vet. My time is 1:10:39 giving me 73rd place. Great but 17 mins slower than the winner!
The weekend was spent camping at Seatown, an ambitiously named hamlet to the east of Golden Cap. The campsite is first class and so is the pub, the Anchor, which feels unimproved and historic but still seems to have everything in place for the 21st century patron. I love this sort of pub. Our first evening is spent on the front terrace of the pub, drinking a range of Palmer's Ales. Caution is thrown to the wind a little (a lot by some members of the club, though I remember that some of them are not racing the next day) I seem to be up all night for a succession of 'pees' and then before dawn I get up and walk to the top of the first hill to watch the sun appear. Back down from the hill I see the sun rise again - now that's a first for me! I have a walk on the beach towards Golden Cap and find a few fossils including a perfect 2" diameter Ammonite. Other fossils are visible, some I recognise from books I have read. Later we return and a man is chipping a dinosaur bone from the cliff face.
During the Golden Cap Challenge Lynne goes off with Lisa, and her friend Kirsty, to a donkey sanctuary near Seaton 25 miles to the west. They come back itching and sneezing. A donkey allergy? It sounds fun though, Lynne's sort of thing.
Later, after the race, we have a club barbecue which defies the smoke free regulations enforced last week by being more like a charcoal burners' convention. The food is good though and I have more than my fill, plus a bottle of red stuff.
Sunday is spent visiting Weymouth, though the rest of the club pack up and leave. We return to the camp-site in the afternoon and take the tent down ten minutes too late to avoid getting it wet in the only rain of the weekend...
Tuesday 3 July 2007
The Cotswold Relay
I've just about recovered now from Saturday's Cotswold Relay. It's a big event, 105 miles or thereabouts, from Chipping Campden to Bath Abbey. The event is divided into 10 unequal parts which start and finish where the Cotswold Way long distance path crosses roads. I was given the tough Leg 2, from Stanway to Cleeve Common, on which to represent Chippenham Harriers Mixed Team. Not only a long way and very hilly too but also the early stages are a long way from Chippenham and are a bit of a trek to get to, both on the big day and on the 'reccies' which are so essential to acquaint oneself with the route. They're essential because there are no marshals and of course, on foot a mistake costs big time and may even decide the eventual result of the overall race. I had reccied Leg 2 twice beforehand, once walking with Lynne, when we just covered the second half, and once at running speed with four club-mates. Initially we walked the second half as I believe that this is where most people would go wrong, when the field spreads out and the next runner might be some way off in the fog... It acts an as insurance against not getting the chance to run it if illness or some other problem prevents a proper reccy. Not only that, but the Cotswold Way can be breath-takingly beautiful, not least the second leg which has marvellous views out across the Severn Vale.
Because of time constraints, the Relays are not handed over like a short track relay with a baton handed on from runner to runner. Instead each stage starts after the previous one , separated by the time taken by the course record holder. Only someone breaking course record for a leg would ever see the next stage's runners before they depart. I missed the Leg 3 runners by about half an hour! The result is calculated on cumulative time, a feat of administrative organisation equal to any that the runners perform on the day.
Saturday is forecast to be a horrendously wet day and as we stand on the start line just before 8.15 (that meant rising at 05.15) there is indeed gentle rain falling. I don't remember the rain stopping but sometime after that it does stop and we have quite a dry run. I had deliberated over whether to wear my road-running shoes or some off-road shoes. I have two pairs of off-roaders, a truly terrible, but much loved, old pair and a pair that are not really comfortable yet. I choose the newer pair, hoping that I will not blister badly on the tough and wet 12.5 miles ahead. The shoe choice turns out to be a good one as runners in road shoes are sliding all over the place on the first slope, providing an additional hurdling hazard to be cleared. After just half a mile the course starts the first of three big climbs, finding out those who are unfit or, like me, not good at starts. The climb seems endless and the pace is pathetic but I am slowly passing a few people and dropping a few too. We all finally reach the top and then it is a couple of gentle downhill miles of farm land and a dark rutted bridle-path down to Hailes Abbey and then a tarmac surface to Winchcombe. We run through the streets of Winchcombe, not many people about yet, and out of town we are back briefly onto farm tracks. Then a half mile more of tarred road where we meet the Chippenham Harriers-organised water station (why didn't they give us a w. station nearer to Chippenham? dunno.) The water station provides good cheer, some not very necessary water and some jelly babies - can't remember what colour they were.
Mixed feelings at seeing the water station as I know it is placed at the foot of the longest hill which drags us unwillingly up to the Long Barrow at Belas Knapp. If you haven't seen Belas Knapp, go when you get the chance. Very interesting. B.K isn't quite the top although it signifies the end of the steep part. The next two miles are mostly gently up though you don't really notice.
Back at the water st. I have picked up a hitch-hiker, a pretty girl called Emma from the Great Western Runners. She's been dropped in at the deep end by her team captain as she has been given Leg 2 just 12 hours earlier after conscientiously reccying Leg 1 . I tell her to think herself lucky - she got a lie-in! The other thing about Emma is that she's a man - well, she's in the GWR men's team. You've got to pity someone in a predicament haven't you; I hardly notice how attractive she is... So I say "Follow me; I know the way."
Soon we are on the open land of Cleeve Common and it is quite misty. My boast of knowing the way is getting to be a bit hollow now as the way markers are hard to see in the fog. In general the rule is to keep to the right as the path is designed to take advantage of the views out over the Vale. In theory there are views but all we can see is the fog and a few gorse bushes. It all goes well though and soon we are dropping down the big descent to a stream with a weir which we cross before the last truly awful climb. This is a hands and knees job, even our fast man, Rich, confesses to having walked it - in fact running just isn't any quicker - but despite being twice the size of the Slaughterford hill we do eventually get to the summit and then all that remains is to rush in a bit of a daze across the public golf course past all the puzzled golfers and finish in front of the Golf Club house. Emma shows her gratitude by out-sprinting me. (Later Joc, one of my club mates and running for the Chippenham Harriers Ladies team, gives me a telling-off for helping the opposition but that's not the spirit in which the Cotswold Relays are run. It turns out that Joc needn't have worried about her and I think she was only joking anyway - well maybe.)
So that is our share of the long day. We drive back to Chippenham and I try stiffly to do a drop of DIY. Later Lynne drives me into Bath to see the leg 10 runners finish and to attend the presentation and visit 'Lambrettas', the very last evening of smoke-filled public houses before the ban on smoking in public places starts. Leg 10 is over, a City of Bath runner first and a first lady too from the same club. Our runners take an agonisingly long time to arrive. Every runner, no matter how humble, gets a big cheer and a clap as they run down Milson Street to the Roman Baths weaving between bemused late shoppers and tourists.
The presentation is huge and noisy and we all have to shout a lot to be heard over all the people who are shouting a lot... The results are read and we can't believe our ears - our Men's Veterans have been beaten after 105 miles by 8 seconds. In the next couple of days it is reckoned that the winners have inadvertently short cutted during the middle part of the day at a place where the route has been washed away by the recent terrible weather. Much discussion about appealing but, as I said before, that's not in the spirit of the race so they let it stand without complaint.
Then we all go to Lambrettas and boy, we 'supped some stuff'! Sunday is a quieter day altogether.
Because of time constraints, the Relays are not handed over like a short track relay with a baton handed on from runner to runner. Instead each stage starts after the previous one , separated by the time taken by the course record holder. Only someone breaking course record for a leg would ever see the next stage's runners before they depart. I missed the Leg 3 runners by about half an hour! The result is calculated on cumulative time, a feat of administrative organisation equal to any that the runners perform on the day.
Saturday is forecast to be a horrendously wet day and as we stand on the start line just before 8.15 (that meant rising at 05.15) there is indeed gentle rain falling. I don't remember the rain stopping but sometime after that it does stop and we have quite a dry run. I had deliberated over whether to wear my road-running shoes or some off-road shoes. I have two pairs of off-roaders, a truly terrible, but much loved, old pair and a pair that are not really comfortable yet. I choose the newer pair, hoping that I will not blister badly on the tough and wet 12.5 miles ahead. The shoe choice turns out to be a good one as runners in road shoes are sliding all over the place on the first slope, providing an additional hurdling hazard to be cleared. After just half a mile the course starts the first of three big climbs, finding out those who are unfit or, like me, not good at starts. The climb seems endless and the pace is pathetic but I am slowly passing a few people and dropping a few too. We all finally reach the top and then it is a couple of gentle downhill miles of farm land and a dark rutted bridle-path down to Hailes Abbey and then a tarmac surface to Winchcombe. We run through the streets of Winchcombe, not many people about yet, and out of town we are back briefly onto farm tracks. Then a half mile more of tarred road where we meet the Chippenham Harriers-organised water station (why didn't they give us a w. station nearer to Chippenham? dunno.) The water station provides good cheer, some not very necessary water and some jelly babies - can't remember what colour they were.
Mixed feelings at seeing the water station as I know it is placed at the foot of the longest hill which drags us unwillingly up to the Long Barrow at Belas Knapp. If you haven't seen Belas Knapp, go when you get the chance. Very interesting. B.K isn't quite the top although it signifies the end of the steep part. The next two miles are mostly gently up though you don't really notice.
Back at the water st. I have picked up a hitch-hiker, a pretty girl called Emma from the Great Western Runners. She's been dropped in at the deep end by her team captain as she has been given Leg 2 just 12 hours earlier after conscientiously reccying Leg 1 . I tell her to think herself lucky - she got a lie-in! The other thing about Emma is that she's a man - well, she's in the GWR men's team. You've got to pity someone in a predicament haven't you; I hardly notice how attractive she is... So I say "Follow me; I know the way."
Soon we are on the open land of Cleeve Common and it is quite misty. My boast of knowing the way is getting to be a bit hollow now as the way markers are hard to see in the fog. In general the rule is to keep to the right as the path is designed to take advantage of the views out over the Vale. In theory there are views but all we can see is the fog and a few gorse bushes. It all goes well though and soon we are dropping down the big descent to a stream with a weir which we cross before the last truly awful climb. This is a hands and knees job, even our fast man, Rich, confesses to having walked it - in fact running just isn't any quicker - but despite being twice the size of the Slaughterford hill we do eventually get to the summit and then all that remains is to rush in a bit of a daze across the public golf course past all the puzzled golfers and finish in front of the Golf Club house. Emma shows her gratitude by out-sprinting me. (Later Joc, one of my club mates and running for the Chippenham Harriers Ladies team, gives me a telling-off for helping the opposition but that's not the spirit in which the Cotswold Relays are run. It turns out that Joc needn't have worried about her and I think she was only joking anyway - well maybe.)
So that is our share of the long day. We drive back to Chippenham and I try stiffly to do a drop of DIY. Later Lynne drives me into Bath to see the leg 10 runners finish and to attend the presentation and visit 'Lambrettas', the very last evening of smoke-filled public houses before the ban on smoking in public places starts. Leg 10 is over, a City of Bath runner first and a first lady too from the same club. Our runners take an agonisingly long time to arrive. Every runner, no matter how humble, gets a big cheer and a clap as they run down Milson Street to the Roman Baths weaving between bemused late shoppers and tourists.
The presentation is huge and noisy and we all have to shout a lot to be heard over all the people who are shouting a lot... The results are read and we can't believe our ears - our Men's Veterans have been beaten after 105 miles by 8 seconds. In the next couple of days it is reckoned that the winners have inadvertently short cutted during the middle part of the day at a place where the route has been washed away by the recent terrible weather. Much discussion about appealing but, as I said before, that's not in the spirit of the race so they let it stand without complaint.
Then we all go to Lambrettas and boy, we 'supped some stuff'! Sunday is a quieter day altogether.
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