The Cinque Ports 100 - from the other side

Some exciting news! At 6.33 am last Monday morning after 44 hours and 33 minutes of walking, my Mum and Dad successfully completed their first attempt at a 100 mile walk, the Cinque Ports 100! Absolutely sterling effort by the pair of them, totally in awe, I am very proud, as well as maybe a little concerned of their sanity.

After dropping them off at the start of their epic adventure….

...Andrew and I headed over to checkpoint 3, which was 18 miles into the route, at Whittersham Village Hall, and manned by the London LDWA group. I haven't helped at an event before, so it's high time I did. I'd been worrying (briefly) what it would feel like to be there but not running, but as it turns out, manning a checkpoint is way more fun than 18 miles of running to it in the heat (which, unusually for a bank holiday, was hitting the tropical highs of the top 20s) would be. 

Upon arriving and meeting the lovely London team (about 15 strong and a force to be reckoned with), my first task was taking over sausage roll cooking from Melissa. I have never seen so many sausage rolls in all my life. 2 hours followed of putting them in and out of the oven, rotating trays, keeping track of the vegan versus the carnivorous ones, trying not to burn them. It was fairly successful, there weren't any soggy bottoms (Mary Berry, please note), and I only burnt a few (which was intentional, of course, in consideration for those, like my Dad, who prefer their baked goods ‘crispy’). They were added to the by now quite substantial table, with hundreds (no, perhaps thousands) of scotch eggs, cherry tomatoes, cheese scones, fruit scones, swiss roll, and bananas....

The checkpoint opened at 14.40 pm....ready for the 448 people who were barmy enough to walk/ run 100 miles in this heat. There was a flurry of people initially, then a steady stream, and from about 3-6pm it was complete chaos. I was on the water table, and it was pretty much like being in the middle of a very heavy downpour for several hours, such as the volume of water being poured into jugs in the kitchen, run into the hall, poured into participants bottles, mixed with squash, splashed around a bit more for good measure, and empty jugs run back to the kitchen to repeat. Most people wanted water and squash, as it was so hot, and such was the demand that we twice ran out of squash supplies and emergency trips to the village shop were embarked upon. Others opted for a caffeine kick, but alas, my overseeing of tea brewing skills were not up to standard, and several complaints were made that the tea was too strong. I thought this was a bit harsh. I mean, can you have too much caffeine going on to your first night on a 100 mile event? Can you really?

It was brilliant to see so many people I know come through. My parents, obviously. And my cousin Sammy, Gary, Tara and Fabrice, the two lovely ladies who have been so kind to me on the way around previous 100s and their husbands, Neil, Davo, and many others I recognised, even someone who follows my blog (who I saw completed the 100 – so congrats!). 

At about 7 pm we started attempting to return the village hall to its former pristine glory, by moping up the flood which had by now reached severe warning levels, and sweeping up mud and sausage roll pastry (in equal measures) off the floor. Thanks London Team for a great afternoon and induction into checkpointing! I enjoyed it hugely.

Enough rejoicing. Time was marching ever onwards (along with 400+ people) and it was time for a quick dash over to checkpoint 5 at Appledore to meet my parents at around 9.30 pm, before they set off across Romney Marsh into a spectacular thunder storm, in the pitch dark....Oh God, I hope they'll be OK. I had a fitful sleep, where I awoke several times thinking I'd been hit by lightning, whilst Thor the god of thunder (I’m not sure if he actually was that, but he sounds like he might have been someone loud and forceful) chased me along the edge of a cliff with a pitch fork, for a hundred miles… 

...I woke in a cold sweat the next morning to check the live tracking system, and was relieved to see my Mum had made it to the breakfast stop.....but what about my Dad? His last check in was still showing as the checkpoint before. I tried not to panic, after all, the live tracking system was known to be slightly less lively than actually live. It was probably that, rather than anything to do with Thor and his pitch fork. Yes, of course that would be it. Nothing to worry about! I was convinced for half an hour or so, but after a while, Thor’s pesky damned pitch fork started poking back into my mind. Where was my Dad! He could have been hit by lightning, fallen in a ditch, fallen off a cliff, wandered off route slightly and been engulfed in the marshes, been bitten by an adder (I don't know if you get them in these parts, but on a night of storms of last nights proportions, who knows what beasts would rise from the marshes), had a medical emergency.... When you come to think of it, the list of perils is endless. Why would anyone do this? Oh God. I text my Dad, but knowing him, he wouldn't reply for a week (actually, it's over a week now, and he still hasn't replied), so then I text my Mum, and then my Auntie. Eventually, my Mum replied, with the fine news that my Dad was still alive, and still walking - a thousand splendid hurrahs!

We hurried to meet them at Folkstone, about 64 miles in to the route. Supporting is far more difficult than running it, I appreciate that much more now. With the event, someone gives you a route description and you basically just have to follow it, whist trying to stay upright, keep breathing, and not get lost, not necessarily in that order. With supporting, you have to plan  your own route to the checkpoints for a start, and then coincide this with your own schedule and the potential schedule of your supportees, which can change at only a moments notice, due to any of the aforementioned perils. It's highly stressful and am am much less component at this than my parents are...yet another of their superior skills I aspire to one day equal.

We found them! They were looking strong, if a little haunted after the night's endeavours (maybe there were mysterious things in the marshes after all), and I was fortified to see them still looking well. On further discussion, the night seemed to have been quite an event, with a fine show of lightening, a chorus of marsh frogs, and a lady falling in to a ditch. But now it was day time again, the sun had come out, and cold lemonades were in order, some minor foot surgeries were to be done, and a whole days walking ahead (and then some). Following the foot surgery, which went as well as could be expected (everyone still had two feet each), we walked a few miles together along the coast from Folkstone...

...and to the deceptively charmingly named ‘The Warren’, which initially lived up to the images it’s name conjured up; of green winding paths through the verdant undergrowth, with trees overhead intertwining into tunnels, and small doorways set into the trees where the hobbits and fairies lived, and a man lay half sleeping under a tree in a bed of leaves…. and only one of those things isn’t quite true. 

And then the dreams of The Warren abruptly ended, and The Cliff began. 

There's not a chance, judging by their commentary on the way up, that they will ever forget The Cliff, but just in case, here's a snap from a handy cave half way up...

At the top of the path, there was a most entrepreneurially placed cafe. With less than 10 steps extra walking off the path, was an opportunity to partake in all sorts of refreshment, but today (which in an even odder turned of events for a bank holiday weekend, was turning out to be even hotter than yesterday), there could only be one choice - the cooling calories of the humble ice lolly. Having replaced a tiny fraction of the now thousands of calories my parents had ploughed through since starting, they set off across the fields towards the next checkpoint. I felt terrible by abandoning them to return to the cafe to meet Andrew for lunch, and spot Tara scale the cliff (Tara for some unaccountable reason had decided to continue on the route after having completed her 'sweeping' section, and go for the full 100, which she did, wearing only one set of clothes, socks and shoes, but did have time to buy a straw sunhat in Rye on the way though. Amazing!)

Early in the evening I rejoined my Mum and Dad at the checkpoint at St Margarets at Cliff (thanks Andrew for getting up at all hours to provide a terrific taxi service). I think they'd had some low points during the afternoon, but they were looking so good still, and the lovely ladies doing the food on the Cornwall checkpoint did a fine job of finding some food they could both manage to eat and enjoy (home grown rhubarb and custard, to quote a fine example), and to raise their spirits. Then it was off into the evening. There was about 25 miles left, they had done 3/4 of the 100! The remaining route was split pleasingly into sections of about 6, 6, 5, 4, and 3 miles, so basically each section got easier and easier (or, at least, shorter  and shorter). I walked overnight with them, and what a privilege it was to be able to walk with your parents overnight on such an epic challenge, and to witness just how amazing they both are. I knew they were fit, but I couldn't believe how good they still looked! And they were still in such good spirits! I learnt a lot from them (again) that night.

On the way to Deal I was heartened to see our friend Neil, who I think had had a very tough race earlier on, come past, having turned things around and really picked up his pace. By a punctilious stroke of luck, my Mum fell down a rabbit hole at the exact moment he passed, and so 'operation pulling out of rabbit hole' was a success with several pairs of hands to help, and my Mum was saved from an adventure with Alice in Wonderland. By the time we'd got the Deal, the next checkpoint, news of the 100 had apparently travelled ahead, and several people, who on first appearances just seemed drunk and ready to cause trouble, came over from the pubs lining the prom and were genuinely interested in the event, asking all sorts of questions, providing enthusiastic support and slaps on the back. 

On leaving Deal, it was time to tackle the most dreaded line on the route description "follow prom for 3.6 miles." It sounds simple, but by jove, it's dull. Even in the dark, with the night fishermen in illuminated tents on the shore to look at, and a giant spider running across the path, it doesn't get away from the fact that it's 3.6 miles in a very straight line, with not a lot else to do but walk, and think about the fact that you're walking in a very straight line. After an eternity of walking along and along and along, it was time to leave the coast and head inland across a golf course. This was pitch black, but helpfully, someone had put up reflective arrows to guide the way. If only we could thank them. "Hello" came a voice out of the dark. I jumped, almost as high as The Cliff. I knew it. These parts were haunted. "Well done!" continued the voice from the darkness. Odd. This ghost is a) super friendly, and 2) seems to have a good grasp of currently earthly matters going on in his patch. At that moment a flash of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating a black figure lurking in the darkness. "You're looking great" continued the ghost. Gosh, he really is kind. "I've only done 5 miles and I'm done in!" he continued. That's odd too. I mean, presumably if you're a ghost you're 1) already done in, and 2) do you even get tired, if you're a ghost? Another flash of lightning, and I realised that while I was perusing these thoughts, my parents were fully engaged in conversation with the ghost, and he actually looked quite solid. Pretty solid, in fact. I think he was a man. And I think he'd put up the reflective arrows. But quite why he was then stood in the middle of the golf course in the pitch black, with no light, will remain a mystery. But then, this is about mile 80 of the 100, and mysteries abound. 

My parents made it to Sandwich, and the only thing in the whole event that they disappointed me with, was that neither of them ate a sandwich whilst here. North Yorks were manning this checkpoint, and they are just a splendidly friendly group. My parents were starting to look quite tired. I hadn't fully appreciated before how hard it is to watch people you love put themselves through something that is on the one hand totally amazing, but on the other very difficult, and really quite painful. I just wanted them to be comfortable, and relaxed! But I knew there was no way that was going to happen for another 12 miles, which was now all that was left between them and 100 victory. And so, with bags and sticks back in place, it was once again out into the night....

5 miles now, to Northbourne, and another splendid checkpoint. The man checking people in called me over. 
"Are they your parents?" he asked. 
"YES!" I replied, "aren't they doing well!"
"Yes!" he replied. "You know what you can tell them?" 
"What? That you have replacement feet here? That the route has been massively mis-measured, and this is actually the end?"
"No! That in a couple of minutes, they will have been walking for 41 hours! How amazing is that!"
"Super amazing! Mum and Dad - guess what! You've been walking for almost 41 hours!"
Mum and Dad: "Yes! We'd noticed!"
I stuck some more plasters on my Dad's blisters. I didn't like to say, but his feet were being pretty much held together by plasters now. But he couldn't see them, so as long as I kept up an encouraging dialogue, and didn't take off the existing plasters which were now acting as skin, I was confident his feet would last another 7 miles....

...because 7 miles were all that was left! My parents were starting to get 'the tilt' a curious phenomenon that afflicts walkers after a prolonged amount of time on your feet. Think it's something to do with muscles spasming or something. Anyway, my Mum was tilting to the side and my Dad was tilting forwards. I could tell they were starting to hurt now. I know that feeling. So close to the finish, but each step literally feels like a herculean effort. The night was turning to day, that magical time when the air feels all still, in anticipation of a new day.

The next section was not popular with anyone, too many straight lines again, and going along the sides of fields for miles at a time (who knew the fields were so vast down here). Still, a few straight lines weren't going to stop them now, and soon the final checkpoint was reached, manned by Dave from BBN LDWA. I was amazed that my Mum was still able to have a coherent conversation about kit with Dave. They'd been awake for 48 hours, walked 97 miles, and were still able to talk about the benefits of having a bag with front pockets so that snacks could be taken from the checkpoints, stored, and be easily accessible. Incredible. My suspicions are confirmed - they are actually machines. At the same point for me last year, I remember being lost in a field of 8 foot high rapeseed plants, and crying because I couldn't find a way through them and realising I had to retrace my steps for 1/2 a mile to get back on the route. 

My Dad stood up. I asked him how he was. "I've lost control of my legs now." 

Never mind! 3 miles to go! All plain sailing from here, along the North Downs Way. Stopping for regular stretching stops and re-grouping, they marched ever closer to the finish at the Duke of Yorks Military School just outside of Dover, where at 6.33 am on the Monday morning, they marched right on through the door and completed their challenge!

A completely amazing achievement. I know how much effort that went into that, physical and mental, before and during. Well done on a job well done! 

And congratulations to everyone who completed it, or tried to. And all the volunteers and supporters. Such success!