The drive to Exmouth
We were only 2 minutes late picking Phil up on Saturday morning and that really wasn’t our fault (hat, horse, tractor, long story, don’t ask). I unselfishly allowed Phil to take the front seat so that he could get the full thrill experience whilst I sat safely in the back – further from any impact with large, fast moving metal objects. Having said that we arrived in Exmouth unscathed apart from Martin becoming cross at Phil and I for chatting instead of map-reading – I found myself ejected from my comfort zone and driving Martin’s Ka with the manic clutch whilst he barked orders at me from the back seat. Bit of a problem with the car park/toilet/finding the correct place to start but as this is already threatening to become a very long story I’ll cut that short.
Leg One Exmouth to Lympstone Common (4.6m)
Off we set just after 11am with the estuary on our left, the railway on the right and the large font instructions clutched firmly in my hot little hand. What could go wrong? Well it would have been nice to make it as far as half a mile without catching my toe in a stone and falling flat on my face. Phil gallantly waited until he was sure that I hadn’t a) broken something or b) burst into tears before he started laughing. Fortunately I have a high pain threshold – it’s no problem for me to limp 10 miles with blood gushing from my knee – Martin intercepted us shortly afterwards so I insisted that he get a photo of my injury before it got covered in mud.
The rest of the run passed uneventfully – the instructions are very clear and the East Devon Way, unlike the Wessex Ridgeway, is clearly signposted. We lost count of the times that a little red Ka and our personal photographer popped up en route but lots of unflattering photographs of me puffing along in pursuit of Phil will NOT be appearing on this blog.
Leg Two Lympstone Common to Higher Hawkerland (5.8m)
I was glad to send Phil off with Martin so that I could slump into the car with sweat pouring off me. Attempts to read the instructions to the next handover were thwarted by my glasses steaming up every time they came within about 3 feet of me. However despite the fact that I had no idea where I was or where I was going, the instructions were clear and I arrived at the next car park with plenty of time. In fact by the time Martin and Phil arrived I had gone from sweating to shivering.
Martin said: One reason we took so long, apart from it being the longest leg, is that we somehow went off course after 10 yards, and wandered around in the woods for a couple of minutes before retracing our steps and finding the correct path out of the car park! I can’t blame Phil for doubting my navigation at the bottom of a steep hill a bit later when there seemed a more likely path off to the left, luckily in this case I got it right, and mutiny was narrowly avoided.
Leg Three Higher Hawkerland to Harpford (2.9m)
Phil and I crossed the dangerous A3052 which no runners are allowed to set foot on during the race, but which apparently is quite safe to cross during recce runs.......and set off on a nice downhill section through the woods. At the bottom there was a stream with a cunningly concealed bridge, which we wasted valuable time using to get across although Phil was quite clear that on the day I should not waste time trying to keep my feet dry. Some more well way marked footpaths, a small section of road, a very steep but fortunately short climb and we could see Harpford Church ahead – just a few sodden fields and the swollen River Otter between us and our destination. I was extremely grateful that Martin had not only arrived but picked up supplies en route – we had grossly underestimated the time and I’m not used to skipping lunch (not to mention elevenses). Given the unsociably early start breakfast was a dim and distant memory.
Leg Four Harpford – White Cross (2.9m)
What a nightmare!! Trying to stuff food back, read the map and stay in control of Martin’s mad car I got hopelessly lost. The instructions were useless!! I turned right too soon and didn’t get suspicious that I was on the wrong road until grass started appearing in the middle and then it turned into a stony farm track. Had to reverse back about half a mile, set off again, turned left when I should have gone straight at a cross roads and eventually got onto the right route – a single track lane along which I met three cars and had to reverse back for two of them. On one occasion into a muddy gateway that I had severe doubts I’d ever get out of again. Finally got to White Cross about 3 seconds before Martin and Phil – luckily most of their route had been uphill or they would have arrived there long before me.
Leg Five White Cross to Hatway Hill (3.4m)
This was familiar territory for me as apart from the last short section the East Devon Way is also the route of the Four Trigs. Phil and I zoomed happily downhill for the first 1.7 miles until we reached the road crossing in Sidbury. Unfortunately Martin had got a bit confused and thought this was where the next hand over point was and so had assured Phil that this leg was all downhill. He was therefore slightly underprepared for the horrendous climb ahead of him. We gave up any pretence at running half way up the first field – by the time we got halfway up the really steep part through the woods Phil had even given up trying to talk (I only put that in as an indication of how bad the hill really was). At the top we turned off the Four Trigs route and enjoyed the last half mile stretch gently downhill to see Martin jogging out to meet us. Phil, having already covered over 19 miles decided to take the easy option and hitch a ride in the car. I dithered for about 2 seconds, nearly offered to run the last leg with Martin but then callously sent him off on his own.
Leg Six Hatway Hill, part way to Middle Knapp Farm and back again (should have been 3.2m...)
For the happy ending to our story I hand over to Martin who no doubt will enjoy regaling you with stories of my stupidity.............in years to come when people are introduced to us there will be a side comment “Don’t mention the keys!!!!”...........................................
Martin Said: About 2 miles into the final leg, I was nearing the bottom of a long hill which I had just run down with the wind behind and was thinking “I’m glad I am running down and not up that”, I received a call from a slightly hysterical wife claiming to have lost her copy of my car key. “But I explicitly checked that you had it before I started this leg!” I replied, incredulously. “You’ll find it”, I assured her. “No I won’t, we’ve looked everywhere, and you’ll have to come back”. So, I did, into a stiff wind, expecting all the time to receive another call saying the key had been found. But on arriving back at the car and opening the boot it became clear that Lin had found about the only place in a Ford Ka where it is possible to lose a key so completely – on top of the rear light so that when the boot was closed it would be in a little pocket between the light and the hatchback. It was just bad luck that the Ka lacks an interior boot opening and cannot be unlocked except with a key. I’m sure it could happen to anybody, so I won’t mention it again - until I do something equally
Anything you want to add, Phil?
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