Volunteering on the Spine

Many blogs have been written on the Montane Spine Race but none like this one.*  All the blogs I've read, each entertaining and insightful, record the preparation, or lack thereof; the extremities of emotion, fatigue and weather; the lessons learnt - from the perspective of a participant.  The aims seem to be to safeguard treasured memories before time and daily life dilute them, to aid self-reflection on the challenges overcome and to generously guide those coming next on what to expect.

But why not tell another side, the experience of the volunteer?  Those aims seem equally valid for us.  As with all blogs, this is a personal story and others' memories of the same events may be different.  But since I'm writing this blog, it's my memory that counts here.

Friday in Edale

I can't stand the snoring anymore, I'm not that tired yet.  Obviously I don't snore, no matter what Kevin later claims.  So at 6am I'm up, checking out the snow that's fallen heavily overnight and drinking the first of probably 50 coffees that I'll go on to drink over the next few days.  The village hall needs setting up for Challenger registration – flags and signs everywhere.  It does occur to me that if a Spiner can’t find Edale Village Hall they have no hope on Kinder…  The Peak Centre is by now serving breakfast.  If you ask whether the bacon is ready, go straight to the back of the queue: not making that mistake again.

Mandatory kit check

You'd think the clue was in the title: we will check that you have, on your person, all the kit that the rules require you to carry.   Not what you promise you have in the van.  Or your mate is bringing later.  Or you can fetch if we just tell you what we want to see.  About 1 in 10 get a full kit check, the rest are asked to show 3 random items: fail the spot check and you get upgraded to a full kit check.   We ended up with a few who had to come back once they'd found their hat/knife/bottles, and one chap who had to go and buy a liner for his 2C rated sleeping bag.  Chris Worton did his kit check in a DJ - a first, I think.  Finally, Tom Jones swaps sides and has his own kit check - he pulls a "full check" ticket from the box: damn it, sorry but I don't have the hours in my life for Tom to talk me through all his kit - "Just the hat, gloves and shoes please Tom".  The shoes alone took long enough.

Cross-checking at the end, I realize we failed to record a kit check for just two Challengers: Sarah Davies and Dominick Layfield, both of whom would go on to win their respective races.  I'm pretty sure we did check them though....

Ready for Hawes

That evening we tuck into burgers (remembering not to enquire as to their cooked status, I find myself first in line) and salad, get a Scott and Phil pep talk (thank you, have fun, be one team) and finally meet our groups - in my case, checkpoint team 2 led by Jim Imber plus Emma, Paul, Drew, Ben and me.  We would grow close through our shared adventure over the next few days.  Bags packed for Hawes, I head to the Rambler Inn: team-building takes many forms, but one of them is universal in these parts.

5am alarm and Kevin gives Stephen and me a lift to the YHA: we have a bus arriving soon to shuttle runners to the start line.  Except Kevin's car can't make it up the last stretch of a narrow, icy road.  Stephen presses on to the YHA on foot while I guide Kevin in a tentative reverse over a couple of hundred yards (it's still dark) back down to a turning point.  At the YHA, the bus made it up but is struggling to make it back down.  It leaves with just 3 of the planned 30 runners on it, wisely never to return.  Ian's van and Alec's car take over shuttle duties to good effect and all our guys and girls make it to the start.

After watching the Challengers start in fog and semi-darkness (where, exactly, is Kinder Scout?) with ice underfoot, we ready the village hall for the MRT racers.  As we depart for Hawes the skies are clearing to a crisp blue.  Lovely day for a run.

Setting up the finish 

The village hall is transformed over the space of the next few hours from empty room to a welcoming hostelry, with separate areas for bags, medics, eating, sleeping, awarding prizes and removing muddy boots.  The finish line banner is last to go up as we, um, share ideas on how to do it. 

After a chunky team dinner at the Board Inn (see above photo), we return to the Hall to find Louise has arrived with all the food: we will be cooking roast pork, stuffing and apple sauce, vegetable soup and risotto; for dessert there is rice pudding and jam; for breakfast we can offer toast or porridge.  About midnight we hit the sack: a quiet room at the front has been designated for females (despite Emma noting that "it never used to be a sex room"), guys on the floor in the main hall.  Two hours later we welcome Ian to our humble abode with the first load of drop bags for the lead runners.  After a cup of tea, Ian is heading back to Hebden and we are back to sleep.

Sunday morning starts early with sorting out the drop bags and checking the signage on the route into the finish.  Then we wait.  And drink coffee.

Finishers

At noon on the nose, Dom Layfield crashes through the door to applause.  His time is 28h00 and a new course record.  The first roast pork sandwich of the weekend gets a thumbs up and we're off. 

Runners arrive at roughly hourly intervals over the rest of the day, most of whom we manage to get out to meet in the High Street and welcome them properly to Hawes.  At 3am I sneak a couple of hours’ sleep: I'd need it.

Two checkpoints for the price of one

There is a period of about 10h on Monday when the Challenger finish and Race CP2 run simultaneously.  With closing down time for the former and prep time for the latter, the overlap is more like 24h.  We were going to be busy.  

I stay at the Challenger finish as the last runners on the course come in, each one welcomed like the front runners, each has had a personal triumph in making it to Hawes.  We also see the disappointed faces of those coming from Malham to collect their drop bags having DNF'd en route.  To a man, they swear they'll be back.

One moment stands out: as the light was fading, Yann crosses the line.  He collapses on a chair, mud-caked boots still on, tears streaming down his tired face.  The emotional give was evident as he talks through his experience of the course, his fellow Challengers, the volunteers.  Six words stand out for me, it even could be the title of this blog as it summarises my experience perfectly:  "This is humanity at its best."

Finally, at 10:30pm we welcome Anthony Dawson and Ella Corrick.  Anthony is moving like John Wayne, the cumulative corrosive impact of chafing obvious in his every stride.  A kind-hearted medic had taped him up everywhere (and I mean, everywhere) at Hebden, but clearly this was wearing through.  His appetite for roast pork was unaffected.  Meanwhile Ella, looking very fresh and with no sign that she'd been going for 58h, is our first MRT lady finisher: I grab the honour of presenting her with her trophy.

Mopping, sweeping, cleaning, packing up - by 1am it was as if we'd never been there.

Youth Hostel part 2

The YHA was fairly quiet - big gaps between runners this early on - so I head down to the Board Inn (open 24h a day for the race) for a hot chocolate with one of the safety teams, a room key in my pocket.  I weaken and head upstairs for 3h sleep, which becomes 5h.  Just so tired.  A bacon roll for breakfast at 7am and I'm back in the game.  It's Tuesday today - my last day.  I'm going to miss this.

Up to the YHA and take on the checking in/out/sleeping arrangement duties while others get a rest.  Another task: one of our Challengers left his bag in Hawes with his ski goggles in; yes we can take it to the Post Office for you and send it next-day delivery.  Helene's running buddy is ready to go, where is Helene?  I stuff all her clothes in her bag, sit on it and do up the zip, then she's off.  A phone has no owner: text the last person he texted, it's Sean's; phone and runner reunited mid-massage.  A guy looks dead and in need of a rest so I offer to wash the cowshit off his shoes and gaiters: next thing I know, I've offered the same service to 20 others.

Finally the time comes for me to catch the bus to Garsdale for the last train to Leeds.  I'm exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure.  There's even a tear in my eye as I hug Jim, Paul, Josh, Drew - we've shared so much and I'm gutted that Emma is asleep and can't say bye to her.

Reflections

Not before have I had a holiday with so little sleep, sun or sustenance. And yet it was one of the best.  The Montane Spine Race is like a family - it seems everyone has had shared experiences of the event, as participant and/or as volunteer, which has brought them together.  It is a family that actively welcomes new members (like me).  It is a family that inspires you to work hard for each other.  And it is a family you will always feel part of - blood is thicker than water, even Spine blood.

My life is full of teams: at work, as a school governor, as a charity trustee.  CP team 2 was one of the most effective I've ever been in: a clear purpose and plan, a shared commitment to our goal, open conversations and a responsive leader, enough fun to build the bonds of friendship as well as comradeship.

A final note: I volunteered on the Race to get an insight into the event ahead of participating in 2018.  Now I'm not so sure - I feel I might just get as much out of volunteering again as running it.


*Edit: I have since become aware of Dave Lee's blog from 2016: sloggeratspine2016.blogspot.com.  Well worth a read for a Safety Team member's experience in some very tough conditions.