Ian Goodenough

I was being interviewed by the Admissions Director at a University a couple of weeks ago.  I am about to embark on an MBA. A big part of studying for this particular qualification involves working closely with other people. When relating my past experiences to the course, the Admissions Director suggested that Ultra Running is an insular, somewhat selfish sport. Not really a great indicator for someone who needs to work as part of a team of 6 for the next couple of years.

I had an instant answer to overcome his objection. One that needed no prep, because I just knew. It started with ‘I would like to share my experience of the Cape Wrath Ultra with you’. 

I’ve been lucky enough to run all kinds of challenging and fun ultra marathons in the UK and abroad. Invariably they have been single efforts, long pushes and usually with my running buddy Gareth. The Cape Wrath Ultra was my first true multi-day adventure and I was going to turn up alone.

Turning up at Fort William I felt pretty daunted and unsure of myself. I arranged via the Cape Wrath Facebook page to meet 10 strangers in a restaurant on the quay that first evening. I can draw immediate comparisons to the MBA course here. There were people around that table from all over the world, all of whom seemed to already know each other and could draw on seemingly infinite running experience. It felt like they knew more, were more confident and were simply better than I was.

The first couple of days in Fort William scared the life out of me, although it probably didn’t show, as I threw myself in to being Mr friendly with anyone that would talk to me. I had already made friends with a couple of guys from London, Alan Li and Patrick Kingston and had shared a meal with a tall Swiss chap called Michael Bruhin.

After our names had come out of the ‘sorting hat’ in the school hall at Fort William, I realised I wasn’t going to share a tent with any of them and was therefore trying to remember the names of my new tent buddies. ‘Dave….and there’s another Dave but he prefers David. Then there’s Graham and Connor and Ed. So much to remember!’

Once we set foot on the little boat to take us across Loch Linnhe to the start line the nerves subsided and were replaced with excited anticipation. I met a chap on the ferry called Darren. He looked way more nervous than I felt. I instantly liked Darren. His Cape Wrath story ended up so much more epic than mine, but from the moment we stepped onto the shore on the far side of the Loch the whole experience did become epic. I don’t mean that in terms of thrills, spills and excitement (although there were plenty of those), I mean epic in terms of travelling under your own power in the wilderness. At times and for long sections, absolute wilderness. I felt the sense of freedom straight away, like a huge relief. The same feeling we all probably feel at the start of any ultra, but this had bells on. This was real! Living the simplest life possible, as far away from daily life as you will ever find in the UK. It was tonic for the mind and soul.

Day 1 - I went out way too hard. Too much adrenaline, too much anticipation. I ran strong and was surprised how far up the field I finished. I didn’t know it as we made camp for the first time that night but that was a mistake. 

Day 2 - It rained for most of the day but again I went out hard. Too hard again. I earned a nickname from Alex (a Scottish lady who worked as part of a mountain rescue team) as ‘falling over guy’. I needed to slow down, either I was going to hurt myself – which is highly feasible every step of the way! Or I was going to blow up. About two thirds of the way through day 2 I had a big wobble. People flooded past me on one ascent as I sat getting wet and very cold. It was a blessing in disguise though. As I sat on a rock feeling very sorry for myself something happened that changed my whole experience. Swiss Michael appeared, stopped and offered me - in the strongest of accents some ‘Swiss Chocolate’. From that moment Michael and I stayed together until the end of Day 6.

We built up a good rhythm and steadily tracked our way up the West coast of Scotland together. We sat and had picnics, one overlooking the falls of Glomach after a 100m detour to get a better view, and immersed ourselves in the Scottish wilderness. Making the most of the journey. We tended to start later in the morning then work our way through the field each day. That meant we would occasionally run with others like Alan or Patrick or Claire from Canada, Gerhardt, Jamie, Jan from Holland and some of my tent team mates. I say team mates because that’s exactly what we were.

I shared a tent with a school inspector, a builder, a retired oil consultant, a Director of a charity and a stone mason. We could not have been a more varied bunch. What other environment would we ever become friends? That’s what we became though. I think I saw every man in that tent cry, laugh and wince in pain during our time on that event. We quickly bonded and ensured we looked out for one another.

We shared some personal, emotional times as each of us struggled with our own physical issues and the cumulative mental fatigue. ‘The Walking Dead’ was a phrase heard often in camp!

Michael unfortunately picked up an injury on day 6 that severely hampered his progress so he started early on day 7 with a view that I would catch him through the day, but I caught him within an hour and it was clear we would need to separate. I trotted along on day 7 and tried to keep up with various people who seemed faster than me. Running day 7 alone was a challenge and by early afternoon I was in a bad place mentally. It was too hot, I was too tired, everything hurt. I was plodding slowly up quite a big climb. I can’t remember the mountain, I wish I could, but I do remember as I came over the col (it might have been the summit), I could see the sea and some islands in the distance. I knew I wasn’t at the Cape yet but I was close! An hour later I was racing a South African chap called Filippo back to camp. He was much quicker than me but I was flying and we pushed each other in a positive way.

Whilst I was having fun and feeling great however, one of my team mates was having a tough time. He had come in late several days in a row and the lack of recovery, sleep and prep had caught up with him. The evening of day 6 and morning of Day 7 our tent team (now down to 5) had all tried to feed him, keep him warm, motivate him and get him up. He did get up eventually and he actually felt OK running but he hadn’t left enough time to clear a cut off check point. He was truly devasted, as were we for him. He has subsequently finished the Berghaus Dragon’s Back Race in style and will be back for the Cape Wrath Ultra next year, but at that moment, having worked so hard he was asking himself some serious questions.

Day 8 - I reverted to ‘way too fast’ but I didn’t care. I started half way through the staggered start times and simply ran as fast as I could all morning. I was in a proper race for the last 8 miles with a guy called Jim Masters. It turned out he was a much quicker runner than I was but we were in a race. We were 1 and 2 that day, the first guys to reach Cape Wrath! Who was going to be first across the line!? We leap frogged a few times, repeatedly tripping over tussocks on terrain you shouldn’t run on, taking unnecessary risks descending steep drops. All ego and more than a little reckless. What was I doing? This isn’t what this experience should be about. With about 2 miles to go we looked at each other and made an unspoken pact, which soon became a verbal agreement, which then became ‘let’s become a team!

We worked hard together for 2 miles with Jim dragging every ounce of effort from me and we crossed the finish line together. The finish was surreal. Whilst absolutely spent, I’m not sure I was ready for it. As I sat drinking a celebratory beer with Jim I certainly wasn’t ready to come home.

The wilderness of the Scottish Highlands is the most beautiful landscape I’ve ever experienced but there was so much more to my Cape Wrath Ultra experience. On day one I was being the salesman, everybody’s pal. Looking for acceptance and approval. By day eight, I was simply….me. The brutal, rewarding, humbling struggle that is the adventure of the Cape Wrath Ultra peels back every layer of defence you have, until those people you are with see and know exactly who you are. There is no hiding it. There is only truth…….and that is as beautiful as the journey.

So when the Admissions Director challenged me, the answer was easy. I will be life long friends with Michael. We have already run the Berghaus Dragon’s Back Race and several other events around Europe together.

I’ve run with David Hart who has become a good friend, as well as Patrick, Alan and of course Darren, the guy I met on the ferry as we crossed the Loch. He epitomises the Cape Wrath Ultra and you will see his face on lots of the race footage. His struggle and perseverance really was epic. Whilst his injuries unfortunately forced him out, his attitude was humbling to see and a lesson to all of us.