For someone who loves wearing a wetsuit, I do hate getting wet.

The first time I was properly soaked while running was at the Helensburgh half marathon during a day where it was impossible to tell where the sea ended and Helensburgh began. The puddles were so deep that trident submarines were using them for dive practice. It was a grim, grim day.

Yet, I ran anyway and my only thought the entire way round was to run as fast as I could so that I could get back to the car, back home and to never venture outside again. With such a thought, I ended up running my fastest ever half marathon – and my fastest ever medal collection as I didn’t stop at the finish line, I just kept going straight through, grabbed a medal, and sprinted back to the car.

The second time I was properly soaked was during the Three Peaks Challenge. We started at Ben Nevis and it was so wet that you could practically swim to the summit. It was impossible to stay dry even in thick waterproofs. By the time I got to the summit I pulled off my sodden gloves only to discover flippers instead of fingers. It was a grim, grim day.

The third and last time I was properly soaked was during the Celtman 2022 run route. I was acting as support runner for Iain TwinBikeRun and, thankfully, I had assumed that by the time I joined him, he’d be knackered and would be walking rather than running. As such, I brought my full mountain gear rather than trail running clothes. A thick waterproof jacket instead of a packable one. Gloves so thick you could pick up radioactive blocks at Chernobyl. And a pair of full length trousers rather than waterproof shorts.

This time the rain was on and off but, as we walked, the rain spells would last longer and stronger until, eventually, I was soaked through again. Another, grim, grim day.

So, the lesson I want to pass one is not the one about rain making you run faster (which it does) or always be prepared for the weather for more equipment or clothes than you think you need (and more again, you can never have enough clothes where you’re cold and wet), it’s a simple one: move to somewhere it doesn’t rain!

What’s the connection between my three tales? They all happened in Scotland. Scotland is a grim, grim place! Why not live in Dubai? The Sahara or even the middle of Death Valley? It never rains there!

Conditions for Iain TwinBikeRun at Celtman were brutal. 3K swim, 120 mile bike and a marathon in 40mph headwinds and driving rain. However, I can report, with my duvet and pillow, the support car was roasty toasty.

Swim Start

Competitors need to register in Sheildaig and board the bus to the start line by 4am. There’s no access to the swim start for supporters so, once you’ve helped them set up at transition and register there’s nothing to do but keep warm and wait until they return to shore from 6am onwards. One of the local cafes was open, so there is an opportunity for some food or a hot drink, but I just used the time to try and catch up on sleep. We were up at 2:30am with a target of leaving the AirBnB at 2:45am so I’d only had a few hours sleep.

Sleep wasn’t helped by Iain TwinBikeRun booking another pre-race base with no curtains. And, just like Norseman, it was another night of trying to sleep while it was still as bright as noon outside. One day, maybe, Iain will book a room with blackout blinds..!

The swim exit is easy to find – it’s the one surrounded by supporters, braziers of fire and a drum troupe. You can’t miss it in Sheildaig. And with the drums banding away, you probably couldn’t miss in half the western Highlands.

You need your support t-shirt to access the exit and transition so remember to wear it as, with it, you can get onto the shore and help your competitor over the rocky beach and up to transition.

After you help them change, you pack up everything, pick up your car and you have a couple of hours before you can join them again. You’re not allowed to support competitors during the first 15 miles of the race. I used this time to go back to base, eat some breakfast, pick up Mrs TwinBikeRun and BabyTwinBike and ensure the car had everything for the rest of the day.

Bike Course

We met Iain TwinBikeRun around three hours after he started. We then tried to meet him roughly every 45 – 60 mins. He didn’t always stop but we wanted to give him the chance to pick up food or drink or to change into or out of his waterproof clothes.

The thing to watch out for on the bike course is that many parking spots are slightly off the road requiring you to pull in, rather than parking at the side of the road itself. It’s particularly tricky to find a spot on the road between Ullapool and Garve. So, you may want to agree in advance the spots you’ll meet.

Other than that, the support cars are well spread out and there’s plenty of room for everyone on the road. I had been concerned that the Gairloch coastal road may have seen some bottlenecking but there were no issues at all.

Run Course

Car parking at Kinlochewe is challenging. This year, parking was in a field. A muddy field. A VERY muddy field. A local farmer had to pull some cars out of the field with a tractor as they struggled to get through mud at the entrance.

Luckily, we were directed to park just outside the field so had no problems but a lot of people were struggling and panicking about how they were going to get to the transition T2A without a car to take them there.

At T2A there’s no shelter, just a portaloo. This year, that meant I had to change into all my warm clothes and waterproofs while waiting for Iain TwinBikeRun to arrive. This was okay as it was largely dry while I waited with only a few brief showers. However, if it’s a decent day then you’ll normally be arriving here around peak midge times. So, if there weather is decent, prepare face the might of a million Scottish midges as you wait.

Overall

The race is well organised and each transition is supported by knowledgeable and friendly marshalls. We always knew where we were going, what we had to do and where we needed to go next.

We’ve reviewed Bayble Beach before. You can find the reviews here and here so this review is more a warning than a review.

The beach is beside a working pier and when I arrived there was a tractor pulling a boat out into the surf. I waited a few minutes while the boat was floated and the fishermen (a grandfather, father and young son) left before I waded out into the water. The board quickly skirted the pier and left my sight. I thought I had the water to myself and started to swim only to find, a few minutes later, the boat came back.

“Well that was rubbish!” I heard the sound son say over the unmistakeable sound of something mechanical broken.

I stayed next to the pier while they grounded the boat and the father jumped out to get the tractor to pull it up to the beach.

And all I could think was “I should have worn a tow float!”

I’d started swimming in a spot I knew well, one that I knew was safe as it was near high tide on a calm day and I didn’t think to wear a two float. I was wrong. Even in the safest spots, something can change. An empty ocean can suddenly be filled by an anguished shout and next you see, a broken boat is bearing down on you.

So, for this review, I repeat everything Iain said about how great a location this is for a swim and I only add what should be an obvious plea: always wear a tow float when swimming outdoors!