Cold damp marshalling

I am not going to sugar-coat it. This was quite a miserable day of marshalling. It was for the Pedol Peris race; a fell race over 4 hills of  >900m high, and several lower ones. Last year I had marshalled it as well. That had been a long day; I had been stationed both near the start and the finish. But at least, both stations were at low altitude, and the weather was alright. I was quite comfortable. And I knew the conditions had been a lot bleaker at higher altitude, with low visibility, and rain and wind and cold. And this year, the weather forecast was awful, and this year, I was stationed at higher altitude.

I would be at the summit of Moel Cynghorion; a 674m high hill, and the last hill in the race. The runners would get there from yr Wyddfa, and from there, bushwhack down the hillside, ford a river, scramble up the side of the valley on the other side, get onto a well-trodden path, and follow that until it turns into a road and gets you to the finish. We would be the last marshalling station, and therefore the last ones to have to be in position.

I was teamed up with a guy called Paul. When I got to race HQ the race was just starting, so there was hardly anyone there. Two ladies of registration, a little dog, and Paul. We got ourselves the marshalling pack with clipboard, pencil, clicker, cowbell, vests, radio, and a group shelter. We were expected to register the individual runners coming past. We also had an app for that. I had uploaded that already, and put in the code that told the software which race this was, and which marshalling station. The organisation had made sure we all had a waterproof case for our phone, and a power bank. So we should be okay!

Paul and I walked up. Initially, that was quite civilised. It rained, but not catastrophically so, and in the valley the wind was not so bad. But when we got higher up on the ridge, the wind picked up. And by 1 pm we were on our summit. It is just a flat grassy top with a fence on. That's it! Not even the wind shelter made of stones. I was glad we had the emergency shelter. We didn't waste any time and got it out of the bag. Paul was already shivering on arrival! It turned out we had a really big shelter, for 8 to 12 people. That was too much for us! But we got in anyway. And we added some layers to our outfit. This would be cold! 

Walking up. The half-seen hill in the distance is Moel Cynghorion 

I kept an eye on the race WhatsApp chat. We also radioed through that we were in position, but we did not receive a response. So we relied on WhatsApp. That told us where the first runners were. And these were only at Pen-y-Pass, so there would be a bit of time. I decided to have lunch. Paul didn't seem to want lunch this early.

Some 40 minutes later, the first runner came through the highest point they would reach on yr Wyddfa. Normally, the runners have to go over the summit, but because of the weather, that point had been cut out. And 20 minutes later, I saw a vague figure appear in the mist. He didn't seem to be running, but in this weather you don't expect any walkers. It seemed they were wondering if they had to cross a stile where they were. We rang our cowbell and yelled. Then he came our way. It was indeed our first runner! So I logged his arrival in the app, and on a piece of paper. 

Soon there were more. The field was not really that spread out. Often it would only be a minute or two before we saw another vague figure appear in the distance. I tended to spot them first, and would shout "runner!" upon which Paul would start frantically to wave the cow bell. We heard later that several were indeed lured in by the sound. Some clearly weren’t; quite some of those approached us on what technically was the wrong side of the fence. That didn't matter! They would just have to shout their number at us, and we could log them anyway.

Paul had said he was a technophobe, so he didn't want to work the app, and he said his hands were too cold to write anything down, so both of that was my job. He manned the cowbell, and advised runners on the route if they were in doubt. He had run this race several times himself.

It was cold and wet and miserable, but as long as we regularly saw runners coming it was okay. Sometimes there were several appearing at the same time. And initially, the longest lull between runners was only 11 minutes.

We also had some time to chat. I found out he had been running the old Caffi Siabod! I had liked that café. But I had heard that the landlord had become unpleasant, after which he had decided to go elsewhere. They had restarted the café a lot further west now, near Criccieth. I hadn't been there since they opened there.

We also talked about our racing and marshalling  experiences, and suchlike. It was nice to have a chat to divert attention away from being wet and cold! I was a bit worried about him. He had been shivering from the beginning, and he clearly had no intention to stop. How long would we have to be here? At least we knew how many runners were in the race. WhatsApp told us if someone bailed out halfway, or was sent down because they had missed the cutoff. There were some! And I can imagine. And there was one runner who had missed the cutoff, seemed to have continued anyway to help someone, but then vanished into a cloud of ambiguity.

We were counting down the runners. Only five more to pass us. Then four, then three. Then two. Or one. The assisting person seemed to really be out of the race. And then nothing happened.

We were sitting there in our shelter, with only some grass and the fence vanishing into the distance to look at. I kept staring at where the runners would appear. There was not much to focus on! At some point I decided it was becoming downright hallucinogenic. If your brain has so little to process, it will start filling in some details itself.

Still smiling…

I might also have been in my best waterproofs, plus a shelter, but if you get several hours of such strong wind and rain, you get wet anyway. It was rather unpleasant.

We knew there was a sweep: Trevor, of the Thursday crew. If we would see him, we would know we would have seen the last person, and we would be allowed (advised!) to leave. And then at some point the wind picked up even more, visibility became a bit better, and I decided to see if I could see him and the last runner coming. I got up on my stiff legs, and staggered to the corner. I looked down the path. Nothing! And only by starting to properly descend would I be able to see more. I was not going to do that. For now, I was still within Paul’s sight. I started walking back.

Then I looked over my shoulder. And I saw two little heads appearing! That must be our last runner plus sweep! And I quickly saw that the tallest of the two indeed looked  like Trevor. So I hobbled towards them and gave them a hug. I was so glad to see them! It had been 25 minutes since the previous runner. It felt like forever. 

Even though I was hiking boots, a down jacket underneath my waterproofs, and a civilian bra, when they reached the flatter bit and started running towards Paul I joined them. He was probably even happier to see them than I was. And we would not waste any time! We started packing our bags. Trevor helped with taming the unruly shelter in the strong wind. Trevor and the runner then vanished over the stile and down the hill towards the river, while Paul and I preferred to go over the path.

It is a fine path, but it follows the ridge. And the wind had picked up so much that it was difficult to stay upright. We also couldn't really walk on the path; we kept being blown sideways. But we made progress. And quite quickly, at least my muscles warmed up again, and I felt a bit more human. I suspected Paul was feeling the same way. We couldn’t talk in this wind. And with the strong wind having blown away some of the clouds, we even had some views. I didn't stop to photograph them as I just wanted to get off the mountain, but it was nice they were there. And after a while, we got to the big path through Maesgwm.

From there it is still 3 miles, so quite some distance, to get back to headquarters, but it is a lot more sheltered. Staying upright is a doddle! And the rain wasn't heavy. We made good progress. The worst was over. I let HQ know we were on our way. 

When we walked in we got quite some looks of sympathy. And I was glad to peel off all my waterproofs. We dug out all the materials we had borrowed and gave them back. Suzie, who had organised this, was not there. Quickly I found out why: she had driven up the track to pick us up! That was very sweet of her. But we had taken a shortcut you can't do by car. I Whatsapped her to tell her that. And after a while, she appeared. She was very appreciative of our efforts. And she made sure we had got some chocolate as thanks.

I was keen to get home, and get out of my wet clothes. So I said goodbye to everyone and left. It was lovely have a shower and put dry clothes on. And then have dinner.

This was by quite some distance the most unpleasant marshalling I had ever done. Towards the end I was really starting to worry about our own health. I was glad the last runner appeared! I think one thing that should happen is that were we to do this again, we should make sure we have a smaller emergency shelter. And I also would just hope for better weather.

We also have the annual Swamphike coming up. I have now tested my best waterproofs, and they were insufficient! That is a bit disconcerting. But not something I would spend much time worrying about that day. It was now more important to get comfortable!