Orienteering: Simonside Classic (21 Jan)

Wow. Never has 5km felt so hard. In truth, I did 6.5km, but still... it took me over 70 minutes. But it wasn't so much the hills of Simonside that were tiring, it was the fact that the ground was so damned lumpy, and obscured for a lot of the course by dense, clumpy heather. I hope to hell that this was a ranked event, to make it all feel pointful. 😂 Let's go through it one control at a time. Ish.

Map for the Blue course. 5.2km, simple enough, right?

Have to admit, I got off to a terrible, uncertain start. Given it was open moorland, any sensible person would've used the compass they were carrying to set off in the right direction, going direct to the control. Not me though. I wasn't confident I could use it quickly and accurately, so instead decided to follow line features on the map, like a path followed by an earth bank that should lead directly to the control. But the paths were hardly distinct or distinguishable and the earth bank certainly wasn't obvious from a distance as it sat maybe just a foot above an already lumpy landscape. Everything just looked... moor-y. Combine that with the fact I'd not calculated what 1cm on the map translated to, and I felt like I might as well have been navigating in the dark. In hindsight, the scale was a simple 1cm-to-100m, but the panic induced by my confidence-shaking start meant I couldn't even figure that out at the time.

In short: I'd not done my homework. I should've practised using my compass (and not been so arrogant to think I didn't need it) and I should've worked out the simple scale conversion in advance — I knew it would be a 1:10000 map. I really have been spoilt by doing so many urban courses, where everything's a line feature and there are right angles and landmarks aplenty.

Control 2 was little better. It dawned on me that just because it was open moorland, that didn't mean I'd be able to see the control from a distance. Number 1 had been in a depression, while number 2 was in a rain gully. Both were invisible until you were practically on top of them. God job I didn't check how many controls were on my course at this point (18, fwiw), as that would've really seen my morale plummet. 😂

Control 3 actually saw me feel a bit better. While I still didn't have a good feel for distances or my ability to spot earth banks, I spotted a distinct path heading towards me that was roughly in the direction of the control I needed. A quick check of the map and I was fairly confident I needed to take that path. At last, a clear landmark to head towards. The only thing that bothered me was that another runner who seemed to be doing the same course as me wasn't heading directly for it. 🤔

Anyway, along that path I went before getting to what I expected to be a fork, but in reality was just the one clear path turning into a network of indistinct half-paths. 😩 Cue much fumbling around to eventually use nearby line features to triangulate myself and find another out-of-sight control.

Controls 4 and 5 followed pretty much the same pattern, with 5 especially being one where I wish I'd used my compass. I think the embarrassment of having to stand there and work it out was really what stopped me. Control 6 was largely aided by seeing others go for it, as my assessment of the distance to it was so wrong that I was surprised to find myself upon it. Control 7 was simple enough (though the 'path' was more a sheep track), but then... THINGS GOT REAL. 😮

Approaching the main Simonside hill, head-on.

The climb to control 8 was brutal, with contour after contour to pass. At the base of the hill, the barely-a-path petered out and you were left trying to pick out sheep trails in a head-on assault. Only a fell runner could've tackled it at anything other than a weary trudge ...and I'm no fell runner.

From 8 to 9, we followed along a plateau but with the heather getting thicker and lumpier. A slight descent to follow a wall to its end was really hard on the ankles, demanding careful footing.

And then it got harder.

From 9 to 10 was the hardest climb of the lot. The heather was at its thickest, the shape of the ground completely hidden underneath with miniature gullies here, there and everywhere. Oh, and the gradient was nuts. My left knee was clicking like crazy and despite the cool conditions, I was overheating. Working without my compass the whole time, I was amazed to find, when I finally reached the top, that I was perfectly on line. I bounded towards control 10 feeling rather pleased with myself.

And then came the worst bit of the whole course by far.

Not a climb, but an ankle-breaking traverse across a steep, heather-covered slope. This really was hurting me. Not in a pain-cave kind of way, but in an I'm-getting-injured kind of way. Repeatedly, my ankles turned as the heather under me caved. I started to wonder whether the tall soles on my Brooks Cascadia — necessary for comfort over stony ground — were making matters worse. It felt like I was wearing platform shoes and turning my ankle with every step. I even sat down for 30 seconds just to give myself a break. And this was despite the distance to the next control being only about 250m, I'd guess.

While sat down, some mountain goat of an orienteer bounded past me, and this was the point at which I really started making use of others. He'd spotted a sheep track and was working it well. I gingerly clambered down to it and tried to follow. I still struggled on it and couldn't match his pace, but it was better than heather tussocks.

After control 11, there was a bit more traverse, but the sheep trails were getting slightly better. The goats continued to pass me, but I just tried to be inspired by them. After bagging the next control, I tried reliving my youth when I'd bounce through heather pretending to ride a Moto-X bike. It was easy back then, but I stumbled a lot more, aged 49. 😂 So much, in fact, that I actually took a proper tumble and cracked my knee off a rock hiding under the heather.

Never mind; it was mostly downhill from here and there were large patches of burnt heather that revealed the shape of the ground beneath, making it easier. I did stop one more time, but that was to remove a sharp stone from my shoe — a sharp stone that actually turned out to be nothing more than a callous near the little toe on the sole of my right foot. It hadn't come off or anything; it had just decided to start giving a sharp pain. 🙄

And finally it was over. I didn't really manage a sprint finish this time; my knees were done in. Time to download my results and set off on the 2km(!) walk back to the car from the finish. Once again, I've plotted my progress against the others on my course:

I'm the golden line, slowly making my way out of the relegation zone to mid-table respectability.

So a steady progression from my poor start, but definitely never threatening those who leapt through the heather like deer bounding across the landscape. My peak, surprisingly, came on the two steep climbs between controls 7 & 8 and then 9 & 10, where I climbed to 12th place... before settling back into 13th.

After the run, I had a good chat with a couple of those who'd run the course with me; one who'd just beaten me (Martin) and one whom I'd just beaten (David). I think both expressed a dislike for the terrain that surprised me. I'd thought it was just me, though I don't think either actually fell or was troubled to the same degree by turned ankles. Indeed, finishing off this post a full five days after the event, my knees and ankles are still feeling it. My knees feel twisted and my left ankle still feels swollen. Maybe somewhere like Dukeshouse Wood (the score event on 25 Feb) is actually more appealing now. At least there'll be a lot less heather. Before then though, I'm hoping to get an updated ranking. Will post again when it arrives. 🤞