Transition 2A
And after eight hours on the bike. Thank you. A portaloo!
The transition is beside the car park, which makes it easier for supporters as previous year had seen the two separated and supporters having to push the bikes along roads to get back to their cars.
There were a handful of people in transition and it was still dry and clear but with weather reports of some rain I also grabbed my waterproof jacket along with my running vest. I also used waterproof trail shoes after people had reported earlier in the week that the first section was quite boggy.
Iain offered to run the first section back to Kinlochewe, which was good as…
Kinlochewe to Transition 2B
The change from cycling to running is always tricky. You change from cycling at 15 mph or faster and then must adjust to running at a marathon pace of 6 mph (or slower).
My legs also felt heavy as we left transition so it was good to have Iain run alongside as it forced me to run more than I would have if I’d been on my own.
The first section is along the Ben Eighe trail. Largely flat with a good trail route to follow. The route circle round and then through Kinlochewe before joining up with another path leaving Kinlochewe to the west.
I say path. It was only a path to the extent that others had followed it. It was no more a path than Victoria Falls was a waterfall. It was mud. Just mud.
Iain stopped at this point so didn’t see the worst parts of the path but for the for the next 5 km I tried to move as fast as I could but it was only just faster than walking pace. Every step was an attempt to find solid ground, or at least ground that didn’t swallow my foot.
To make it worse, it started to rain heavily and I was glad that I brought my waterproof jacket. I raised my hood and kept squelching forward.
I knew I had over three hours to make the cut off at T2A for the low level route so time was not important. But I tried to go as fast as I could in this first section. I knew I had plenty of food at T2A and was walking the low level route so could use the last of my energy to get through this section as quickly as I could. I ran bits, power walked others and passed a few people trudging through the mud ahead of me.
After 5 kms, the path cleared and moved to a wide fire trail leading to a very steep climb. At the top, the rain finally stopped and I was able to run down the hill and to the first support of the day. A table with some very wet biscuits and a couple of large drums of water.
“How far to the finish?” I asked.
“About 10 kms,” they said.
Which was longer than I thought but no more than a hour and half away even at my slowest speed.
I continued to alternate running and walking (with the walking taking longer and longer each time) and enjoyed running along a loch and through a glen as I made my way back to the main road between Kinlochewe and Torridon.
At the road, after about 5kms it started raining again. A deluge of raindrops bounding off the road.
I kept my head down and just thought how, in another couple of miles I would be finished this section and able to dry myself off and change into fresh clothes.
“How far to the finish,” I asked a man walking towards me.
He looked at me like I was daft. “It’s there,” he said, “pointing 100 metres ahead”.
I must have misheard the distance before. I was expecting another couple of miles but to see the finish ahead was a relief, and, even better, looking down the road to Torridon, I could also see the skies were clearing and it would soon be dry.
“I’m there,” I thought.
Transition T2B
“But where are you?!?” I asked.
I arrived at Transition T2B, a small car park at the base of Ben Eighe, and Iain was nowhere to be seen. There was a small canopy set up to provide some shelter for checking bags and, hurrah, another portaloo, but beyond a few supporters and athletes bustling around and getting ready to leave, there was no sign of Iain.
“Where are you?” I phoned.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Five minutes later I can see my car on the road and Iain getting out. Has there been an accident? Has something happened to his car and he’s had to be picked up by my wife?
“No, I went back to the hotel because I thought I had time to empty the car. I then thought there was no point driving back, if I could get a lift instead. As we could then avoid having to come back later to pick it up. But you were too fast!”
I didn’t feel like it. It was around 2 hours 20 minutes from T2A to T2B. Originally, I’d hoped for around two hours but that was before I knew about the mud and before I saw how tricky the first half could actually be. In the end, I was happy with my time, and, having changed clothes into hiking gear, I was dry, I was well fed, and I was ready to finish the race.
“Did anyone leave their light?”
D’oh. That was me.
At T2B the organisers will check your bag to make sure you have all the mandatory kit. I had to take everything out, show it to the volunteer and they then confirmed I could carry on. Unfortunately, I’d not picked up my head torch when I repacked. Not that I was thinking I would need it but, knowing how bad it was last time with Iain, I knew how important it was to be prepared for the worst conditions.
T2B to finish
Ready to go. There is a short walk along the road to get to the start of the low level path. Then a steepish climb on a well worn rocky trail for a couple of miles to get to the valley that runs around the base of Ben Eighe.
The organisers say not to confuse the low level route with an easy route. It’s not easy. And they’re right. In the rain, it’s a technical and slippy route. Even in the dry, it has plenty of climbing and is a challenging route with a couple of river crossings and some short sharp climbs even on the level floor of the valley.
At the start of the first climb, I take out walking poles. While allowed, there is a unwritten rule to try and avoid using them.
“Remember to put them away if you’re seen by the photographer,” they joked at the briefing. But, at this stage, I knew the poles would help take some pressure off my legs and would make the last stretch easier. I had no second thoughts about using them.
My second boost was the one thing I’d been looking forward to all day. My one request for Iain was to have a cheese roll at the base of Ben Eighe. And, when he picked up the chips and cheese, he also picked up my roll. That meant that when we came to the first rise, and looked back down the hill towards T2A, a few hundred metres below. I sat down and had a picnic. An XTri picnic. An Xpicnic? And it was fantastic. Finally, some proper food, eaten at the base of a mountain, with the sun breaking through the evening clouds. I could not have asked for a better meal.
From there, as the sun started to lower, the views along the valley were clear and bright and lifted my spirits as I contemplated the last few hours ahead. I had no doubt that I would complete Celtman. It was just a case of one foot in front of the other until it was done.
In the opposite direction, we could see runners and supporters coming towards us. These were the athletes who had made it onto the high level route over Ben Eighe.
“Congratulations! Well done!” We said as they passed, standing aside so as not to block the paths.
I wouldn’t know what to do if I had to take part in the high route. Racing on a dangerous summit has no appeal to me. I was happy to be on the low route, but I admired all those who had made it to the high route.
We carried on, enjoying the hike and making no attempt to run. After an hour, we were passed by another athlete from the Glasgow Triathlon Club. She’s been an hour behind me on the bike and was no overtaking us on the run. She didn’t look like she’d been out for five minutes, never mind 15 miles across the mountains, or 120 miles around the NC500.
“I bet you’ve not had a cheese and ham roll,” I said.
After crossing a small wooden bridge, the low level route starts to descend toward the coast. First through a forest, then past a steep gorge, then into Torridon Estate to walk about the coast road toward Torridon. I thought there would be more midges at this point but thankfully apart from a few small spots, they were largely absent.
It was around 8pm when we could see Torridon and could see another couple of miles of waling to finish. The sky was starting to turn yellow and pink and it was a cracking night.
“I don’t think I could have asked for better weather,” I said to Iain.
“You could have had a hell of lot worse,” he said, clearly remembering his own race. At this point, we’d been soaked to the skin even with strong waterproofs.
“Thought maybe should have worn some suncream,”
“Eff off,” said Iain.
As we neared Torridon we could see the athletes of the high course run along the shower as they approached the finish line with a final loop around the shore.
“Do you think we’ll be confused for the high level route?” I asked.
“What do you think?” said Iain, indicating our hiking clothes.
“Probably not.”
As we walked through Torridon, the homes on our left, the sea on our right. I started to dismantle my walking sticks.
“What about now?” I asked.
As a high-level runner with oak thick thighs ran passed us.
“Still no.”
“But I should run to the finish too.”
And, with the finish line in sight, an inflatable blue arch with “Celtman!” across the top, I started to run the last 25 metres.
20 metres.
10 metres.
5 metres.
And…
“Thank you!” I say to the volunteer who offers me a Celtman beer.
“Thank you,” I say to the volunteer who takes my dobber and GPS.
And
“Thank you,” I say to Iain.
Post race
The hall is packed. It’s warm and a queue for food stretches along three walls. But I’m finished. I’m happy. I just want to eat, get home and sleep.
Last time we were here the hall was nearly empty and the food was terrible. I suspect, due to the terrible conditions, no one stayed as they wanted to get home to get dry. But this time the spaghetti and meatballs are delicious and there’s a great atmosphere as athletes and supporters linger.
“I’ll call Mrs TwinBikeRun to pick us up,” I said as we finished eating.
“I’ll be there in two minutes,” She said, so we left the hall and started walking towards the hotel, thinking we’d be picked up any minutes.
10 minutes later we were almost at the next village when she pulled up.
“I thought you’d be two minutes,” I said.
“I through you’d enjoy the walk,” she said.
And she was right. I did. The walk. The run. The bike. The swim. I loved every minute of it.
Twin brothers swimming, cycling and running in Scotland 