Cracking time at Crantock....

Old man in the sea....a sight rarely seen!  (Click pictures to enlarge)

      We've been camping at Crantock for quite a few years now and have yet to tire of it. The campsite at Higher Moor is a runner's paradise with a plethora of routes to suit all levels, and so beautiful as to be irresistible. It's one of our warm weather training camps and this year it turned exceptionally warm, the best it's ever been. I got so brown I wasn't sure whether it was a healthy tan or whether I'd got scorched!  Hot sunshine even drove me into the sea at Polly Joke, a most unusual occurrence. I'm a runner and cold water has never featured in my list of favourite things, neither for swimming, drinking or washing up. Because it's highly unlikely anyone will ever see such an occurrence again, here is a picture of me posing in the sea (though I did actually swim around for a wee while, trying to enjoy it).
      

'The Route'.  Five beautiful miles...

     Unbelievably, we'd almost uninterrupted wall to wall sunshine for the first ten days of our two week vacation. The next two days produced some torrential rain in the mornings but cleared by lunchtime allowing us to enjoy a walk or run in the rain freshened landscape later in the day. We ran on ten of our fourteen days, a total of 49 miles, mostly on a five mile circuit linking an undulating coast path with a bird and butterfly rich flower be-decked common which we affectionately call 'The Route'.  It starts with a vicious 25% tarmac climb from the gate of the campsite before crossing the West Pentyre road and dropping down through fields to join the Cornish Coast Path above Crantock beach. From thereon the route is all off-road along sandy paths or springy turf with wonderful views and a fast downhill finish over Cubert Common back to camp.  We ran this circuit five times, often meeting other runners en route, mainly members of Newquay Running Club who were much faster than us. And much younger....

      

River Gannel at Crantock

      My last attempt at this route turned out to be quite traumatic. I'd set off alone whilst my wonderful partner was exploring pastures new, somewhere in the opposite direction. I'd sailed up the initial steep hill feeling really good in the early morning sun, dropped down towards the sea and established a comfortable rhythm along the coast path. A steep ascent by Pigeon Cove is followed by an equally steep descent before some steps leading almost down to the beach. I tripped and took a headlong flier, landing with a real bang, bashing my Rt knee and tearing the skin off it, knocking up two toes of my Rt foot (which turned almost black), cutting the thumb of my Lt hand and nettling most of the Rt side of my body amongst all the stinging nettles lining the path. My metal framed spectacles flew off too and somehow got twisted out of shape. It really knocked the wind out of my sails and it was a good couple of minutes before I forced myself back onto my feet and set off gently to complete the next 3½ miles of the route. After feeling so good at the start it turned out to be my slowest ever time to complete this circuit. Surprise, surprise....
      

      Next day it poured with rain until lunchtime, for which I was thankful. I was feeling a bit stiff and wouldn't

Poppies and corn marigolds at Polly Joke

really have enjoyed a morning run. We went shopping - for morale boosting things like Cornish pasties, Cornish cream to spread thickly on our fruit scones before topping with strawberry jam, and an exquisite Australian Black Label Merlot that went exceedingly well with a sirloin steak the following evening. Rain bated as we ate our pasties, the sun came out and cleared away the clouds, we could hear birds singing again and smell the freshness of flowers and trees. As I lingered over the aroma and taste of a rich Italian coffee my wonderful partner couldn't resist going for a walk in the improved conditions.

    

The beauty of Vugga Cove....

     "Where to?" I asked, vaguely interested.
     "Just up the road and round the coast to Vugga Cove" she replied.
     "Well, I might see you there, or I might not" said I, still feeling stiff and limping a bit after the previous days fiasco. In truth, I just needed a few more minutes rest before taking a short cut and joining her there - as she most probably knew I would!  And I enjoyed it, limping at my leisure along orchid paths with that wonderful smell of vegetation after rain, by fields filled with blood red poppies and bright yellow marigolds, wafted by butterflies, scolded by a pair of stonechats from their home among the gorse bushes, and even saying Hello to an unusual saffron snail sliding along a bench I nearly sat on. 

            After a timeless stroll I dropped into Vugga Cove, and there she was. We sat together

Ever hopeful - fisherman at Vugga Cove....

on the rocks enthralled by the incredible colours of sea, sky, rocks, lichens and flowers surrounding this ancient amphitheatre where fishermen plied their trade many moons ago. As if to vaguely carry on the tradition a lone fisherman was patiently casting his line from the rocks below us, ever hopeful of catching a supper sized fish on the incoming tide. Two men in an Indian type kayak paddled gently by hardly making a splash. I was envious. Although I've an aversion to cold water I have to agree with a statement made by my wonderful partner's late father who apparently preferred his whiskey neat. "All water is any good for is going round boats" he said, sipping his single malt. And I think I knew what he meant as I watched the happy paddlers disappear round the headland....and not just about his choice tipple!

Zapped.....

Billions of good guys to replace the bad...

    The devil (in the guise of old age and decrepitude) has been conspiring against me lately, but he'll have to go a bit.  Seventeen days of two different types of antibiotic (Metronidazole and Cefredine) have zapped just about everything, not only the offending bugs but all the good ones too. They almost zapped me! For quite a few days I was wandering around not quite sure whether I was on this earth or Fuller's Earth! Feeling tired and weak I even struggled to walk the half mile to the village and back for odd bits of shopping. I felt dizzy if I tried to run, so abandoned that idea for a while. I'm still trying to work out the significance of my doctor getting up from his comfy chair, shaking hands and wishing me good luck as I left his surgery with that deadly prescription in my hand. He's never done that before! But I trust him. He's sport orientated and has a pretty shrewd idea of how my body works and how to fix it when it's not working.

      I swallowed the last two bug-blasters on Friday of last week. It was a beautiful summer day with hardly

My comfy NB MT10GY minimus trail shoes....

a breath of wind, the type of weather I love to run topless through wide open spaces, allowing hot sunshine to caress my body and saturate it with healthy Vitamin D. I'm certainly in need of it at the moment, and all the minerals it fires into life to promote healthy intestinal absorption. I was eventually lured out of the house for a steady three miles of a supposedly rehabilitation run. I was wearing lightweight New Balance MT10GY shoes which are fairly minimalist with only a 4mm drop from heel to toe. In the past I've only used them over short distances but on Friday I'm afraid I got a bit carried away. Such was my joy at finding I could run again.

I decided to do some hill reps - but not many....(click to enlarge)

     I started off running directly up the steep nose of Castle Hill from where, after a circuit round it's flat top, I'd intended to jog back home. But my legs were feeling strong again so I cut across fields for a mile or so to Farnley Hey, then on towards Farnley Tyas before dropping down steeply to Roydhouse wood. Looking back up the field from the stile into the wood it struck me it might be a good place to do one or two hill reps. So I did - until my body declared enough was enough. My minimalist shoes still felt comfortable as I jogged down through the wood, over fields and into Mollicar wood before crossing the beck and a long ascent for a second time onto Castle Hill.  Sunshine had brought out the sight-seers so it started to feel a little too crowded for my liking. I turned tail and jogged home feeling pretty pleased with myself. I stopped my Garmin at exactly 6 miles which, with 683ft of ascent, wasn't too bad for starters.
      

      I'd a wake-up call at Sunday's Church service when Rev Heather Houlton began her sermon with the words "Are you drinking enough water?"  Well, I most certainly aren't - other than in tea, coffee, fruit juice, the odd glass of wine or, quite rarely

My kind of water - in strict moderation, of course....

nowadays, as a soothing treat of mellow malt whisky. I dislike tap water and, being a Yorkshireman, am far too tight to buy expensive bottled stuff.  I've considered buying a filter, but that costs money too, and I'm not convinced it would filter out all the nasties. But Heather's words came along after many other people had recommended that I increase my intake, amongst them my physio, a consultant surgeon, nurses who treated me in hospital and a few running friends. Not to mention all the advice shelled out in the running press that has half the population of modern day runners cavorting around the streets clutching bottles.. In all my marathon training I never carried water though I always topped up with an electrolyte drink at the end of a long run. However, when the question arose in Church it kind of had a divine ring to it and prompted me to give it a little more consideration. Which is why I missed quite a lot of how it tied in with the rest of Heather's sermon!

Stepping stones on the way to Mossdale....

     I put the kettle to boil for a stimulating cup of coffee while changing from Church clothes into running clothes. Half an hour later I was jogging up Hebden Ghyll en route to far-off Mossdale with warm sun on my back and a cool breeze blowing on my face.  God, it felt good to be running free again and reckoned my legs were strong enough for a good ten miles. With the first 4¼ miles mainly uphill it wasn't exactly easy but, at least, I was doing it and far from noticing any discomfort I'd a big smile on my face and feeling rather chuffed.  Wheatears, curlews and lapwings all scolded me noisily for venturing too close to their fledglings. Strangely, though running through the middle of a grouse moor, I never saw/heard a single grouse. After passing the 1,500ft contour it was a pleasant, run down into Mossdale before turning back over Kelber, through the sleepy hamlet of Yarnbury and dropping back into Hebden Ghyll to follow the beck down to the village - and home. The animal was happy!

      As part of a recuperation process I'm currently piling lots of probiotics back into my depleted gut both

Waving dumbells about - and trying not to do any damage!

with active yogurt and with Acidophilus capsules from Holland & Barratt supposedly containing 3 billion active cultures. Who counts them? To flush and cleanse the system I'm drinking lots of fluids (even a few cups of water), waving dumbells about to regain some upper body strength, cutting back on coffee to reduce caffeine intake and, when I remember, doing a few stretches. I'm also using the Stick to roll out any knots in my muscles. I find the Stick particularly useful for restoring the length of hamstrings that always seem to shorten when I'm running. Hopefully, I'll be firing on all cylinders again when we motor down to Cornwall on Sunday for our annual two weeks camping holiday at Higher Moor, Crantock. Until we get back at the end of the month no more posts will appear here.