Yesterday, I had a very nice 6 mile walk in the Hampshire countryside, recce-ing the route of the Test Way Relay. After an hour of gym first thing in the morning this wasn't the ideal way to spend a rest day, but it was a very pleasant relaxing (!?) afternoon in glorious sunshine. As we like a bit of drama on this blog, I thought I'd share with you the events of last year when I recce'd the same route. Here's the first part of the article I published in our club newsletter:
How not to recceThe Test Way Relay is held each year in early September. It follows the Test Way, a footpath roughly following the course of the river Test, starting at Inkpen Beacon and meandering down through Hampshire to finish in Totton on the South Coast. Teams of 8 run 1 leg each of 3 to 7 miles in length. It’s fun!
The key to running quickly is not getting lost! I can’t over-emphasise this point. In order to do well you have to recce your chosen leg beforehand, to minimise your reliance on map-reading skills on the day. Here’s my experience of recce-ing the third leg for the 2004 race.
My friend and team mate Marilyn had very kindly offered to drive me up to Stoke, north of Andover, to recce my leg from Stoke to Middleton Farm. Marilyn was concerned about her post-injury state of fitness, so was not going to run with me, but drop me at the start point, offer some support en route where the road crossed the Test Way, and then meet me at the end of the leg.
It’s a fair old drive up to Andover, and despite best intentions, I didn’t set off from the start at Stoke until about 7:15pm. Not to worry though: Marilyn would be meeting me along the way, we both had mobile phones with us, I had a map and my map reading skills, and as it was only 10km we would be finished well before dark. So I set off across the fields on what was a beautiful evening – warm, cloudless and still.
Marilyn had warned me about the first tricky navigation test, and I passed with flying colours, heading for the correct exit from the field and I was soon heading for our first meeting point about a mile in. It was reassuring to see Marilyn’s head pop out of the hedge, a quick stop at the car to apply insect repellent, and I was on my way again.
I was now heading to St Mary Bourne in the valley. As I ran I encountered small pockets of quite chilly air. I’d run through them and suddenly emerge into the noticeably warm air the other side, and then go goose-pimply again as I hit the next chilly pocket. I’d never encountered this before. If any meteorologist out there can offer the explanation of how this occurs, I’d be interested to learn.
Back onto the road through the back of St Mary Bourne, where I expected to see Marilyn, but she wasn’t there. Not to worry though. We hadn’t arranged definite rendezvous’s so I cracked on. I later learnt that Marilyn had had some trouble turning the car round in the narrow lane, had arrived late at the road crossing, and had headed back along the trail to meet me, even though I had already left and was heading in the opposite direction. Never mind, we had phones so could sort it out later.
At the next road there was still no Marilyn, but never mind, I pushed on up the hill. I later learnt that Marilyn had arrived late at the road crossing and waited for me, even though I had already left and was heading away from her up the trail.
I was making good progress, but the light was failing fast, and I knew that it was going to be tight whether I made the end point before dark. At the next road junction I was now a little concerned not to see Marilyn, but carried on anyway. I later learnt that Marilyn had arrived late at the road crossing and waited for me, even though I had already left and was heading away from her up the trail. [yes, I did a cut and paste on that last sentence!]
I decided now was a good time to call her to let her know where I was. No answer! Not to worry though! She was probably driving and couldn’t answer. I left an upbeat message on the voicemail telling her where I was and at what time. I was a little concerned though, as I had definitely felt the need for a friendly voice.
At the next, and last, road, with about a mile still to go, there was again no sign of Marilyn. [I’ll resist the temptation to cut and paste the same sentence here, but I’m sure you are getting the picture!] It was now starting to get dark, but I crossed the road, climbed the stile, and pushed on through the field. Trouble was, it was now too dark to read the map properly and I was heading towards some very dark looking woodland. I also couldn’t see where I was treading, and was worried about my footing (my friend Pete had gone over on his ankle on this leg, and badly hurt himself, I later learnt!).
I decided it wasn’t safe to continue, so called Marilyn to get her to pick me up from the road. No answer! I left a slightly more concerned message, then texted the words “Phone me!”. I later learnt that Marilyn’s battery had gone flat; in fact she didn’t get the voicemail messages until 2 days later after the Relay itself!
I should explain that the map was an A4 photocopy. With no colour, it was difficult to see which were roads and which were trails. In the dim twilight that remained, it appeared that by heading east along the road, I could take a right turn and get to the rendezvous only 1.5 miles away by road. Wrong! I was looking at woodland trails – which I was trying to avoid. What’s more, this right turn was actually off the map, and I was having to guess where the roads were. It was actually 4 or 5 miles to the rendezvous in that direction. And further, what looked like a trail on the map, in the opposite direction, was actually a road, and was the quickest route to the rendezvous less than 2 miles away.
It’s often better to make a wrong decision quickly than dither and not make a decision, so with night falling, with no money, no torch, in vest and shorts, a small amount of water, a mobile phone and a packet of tissues, I headed off along a very dark road in completely the wrong direction and off the edge of the map.
To be continued…
In next weeks report: my first ever hitch hike, sober people who can’t locate their own village on a map, an offer of a bed for the night, an offer of money!!, and lots of drunken people all pointing in different directions!
Thanks Marilyn for a great adventure! I in no way hold you responsible!
It's a mere 15 miles from home, so I took the scenic route via the birthplace of cricket - Broadhalfpenny Down near Hambledon. I was a little late leaving due to a bicycle puncture en route to dropping off food and clothing at my friends house beforehand (my long runs always have some drama!), making the run a little warmer than I'd have liked. I arrived at the barbie 20 miles later, and bemused my friends with a "can't stop - only done 20 miles - I'll see you in 20 minutes". Apart from the heat, the other feature of the run was the gradient - a relentless climb of 600ft. Here's the profile.