Mr Motivator and the Bucket O’Shame

All started well in Barmouth, lots of free Power Bar goodies, bright sunshine, a nice offshore breeze, fish and chips, Guinness and Stugeron. Uncertain of my sea legs I was well stocked with potions. Doug and Ben introduced me to Autonomy (the boat) and showed me my bed for the week. The boat was bobbing gently and I felt good.

Sea Fever – a constant companion

The Captain

And we’re off, second over the start line; only to find our own personal hole in the wind whilst all around us the other boats were sailing away into the horizon. Eventually we caught the wind and away we went, quite exciting. Crash, bang, everything left lying around in the galley found its way to the floor as we tacked into the wind. I hadn’t realised quite how much the boat would crank over in the wind,  going below decks was out of the question now. I slowly became less chatty and began staring at the horizon lots. Doug had recognized what was going on and tried to distract me by chatting about the mountains we could see, but my nausea was not to be distracted. I was now feeling quite green as the boat cut through the chop at an acute angle. Some say sea sickness is in the head, I found it was all in the yellow bucket.

Doug

I woke up just outside Caernarvon to calm seas and the first leg up Snowdon. Feeling much better, I rammed some Power bar goodies down and got my kit together – ok maybe I won’t have to go home to my mum after all. Caernarvon was quiet at 4am, just a few revellers winding their home , ‘ey 118, 118, want some cider’, mmm no thanks lads. My strategy was to scoff as much food as I could whilst on terra firma, safe in the knowledge that I was crap on boats. Snowdon was beautiful at 0530, sunny with lots of cloud inversion. We passed some teams on the way down one of whom appeared to have been worse affected than me by the choppy seas – at least it wasn’t just me who was a landlubber. I slowed on the final run in on the road to Caernarvon (hadn’t eaten or drank for the past 14 hours) . Mr Motivator (for it is he) tried to assure me that this really was the last hill, only 400 metres to the harbour from this shortcut – we appear to be descending, oh look the road goes up again…

‘You don’t look tired at all Daddy’ said a disappointed voice. Mr Motivator appeared cheered by this, no-one gave a second glance to the bedraggled wretch behind him.

Mr M.

Lunch time, I was famished – hot chicken curry (Aldi tinned special), quick look at clock showed 0830, early lunch then!  Light winds prevailed so I was able to keep the food I ate, Whitehaven next stop.  We manoeuvred smoothly through the ‘Swellies’ in the Menai straights, two boats had run aground and a 3rd crashed into one of the grounded boats! The wind picked up outside the Straights but I’d switched potion and felt fine.

 

I was woken at some ungodly hour and told we’d be docking in an hour so you’d better get some breakfast in you.  On the bikes and smoothly out of Whitehaven, 16 mile ride to Black Sail Youth Hostel then a longish run (4-5 hours) over to Scafell Pike.  Legs were sore from Snowdon but we made good progress.  Mike and Sally were waiting at Wasdale Head with much needed refreshments – I managed to scoff a rice pudding in the style of a hungry 5 year old, much to the amusement of onlookers.

Naomi and family

It was at some point on this leg that Mr Motivator adopted the ‘married couple’ team running non-technique.  Let me explain…. runner1 runs consistently 100m in front of runner2, in the (mistaken) belief that this will ‘help’ runner 2 to go a bit bloody quicker. Runner1 then (eventually) stops and waits for runner2 to catch up whilst issuing stock phrases such as ‘well done’, ‘you’re doing really well’, ‘keep pumping those legs’ before running off into the mist again. Runner1 thinks he is offering support and positive re-enforcement and ‘helping’ with the pace whereas runner2 would like to poke runner1 in the eye with a sharp stick.  In retaliation to such barbaric and inhumane treatment I washed my hair at runner1, several times. Later, not much later, a new motivation technique began to emerge let’s call it the ‘cattle prod’; runner1 ‘shadows’ runner2 and should runner2 slow down, stop breathing frantically, or show any outward sign of not being about to keel over, encouraging phrases are recited; keep going, well done, good boy, biscuit, fetch.

Ben

The cycling back was the best bit….I sat on Crispin’s back wheel polishing my nails whilst he peddled like a demon. Crispin looked a tad breathless when we got back. James said it was the happiest he’d seen me all race!  We got out of the harbour just before the tide turned, feeling smug that the other teams would have to wait at least 3 hours, and then promptly ran aground!

The enforced rest didn’t do us so much harm after all… sometime later…. we realised that the boats in front were stuck in a windless area, and with much cunning we scooted off up the Sound of Islay in search of a more favourable tide and some wind. What a choice, none of the boats behind us made it through the tidal gate at the end of the Sound of Jura, and only 3 of the boats in front did, result!

Islay

We docked at Corpach for the final leg, Ben Nevis. Three teams in front; 17,19 and 25 minutes ahead, respectively. With trepidation I waited to see which motivational technique I was to be subjected to. Mr Motivator had seemingly used the time on the boat to do some extra motivational reading and had decided that I was to be trusted with setting the pace myself, a risky strategy given what a lazy pie eater I am. I already thought it’d be nice to be the fastest team on the Ben, and given that we’d only been one minute behind the leaders on the Scafell Pike leg it should be doable, it just meant that I wouldn’t have time to wash my hair en route, but I decided it was worth the massive sacrifice. We had a great run up the Ben catching Sea Fever near the Red Burn and emerging from the clag in front of the Aussies. The last couple of miles on the road were vile and with some great encouragement from Crispin I managed to keep going. My final sprint to line caught Crispin unawares and he was, regrettably, unable to maintain pace.

Second across the finish line, a completely unexpected result!

It was a great privilege to take part in the race and many thanks to the team for putting their faith in me. Which judging by the looks going around after the bucket o’shame incident must have been shaken. Many thanks to Damon too, although if he didn’t want to do it he could have just said so instead off hurling himself into a pile of rocks 🙂

Thanks again chaps for a great adventure!