Connaght Gold #2 Nephin - Irelands Toughest 5k

11 July, 2017 - John Bell

It was a bit of a struggle to get up the morning after the day before. Getting Peter and Kevin up so the tent and gear could be packed away was the hardest bit. I'd have less trouble and more help with the kids.

On arrival at Nephin we were greeted by Eoin at registration from his car boot in a light drizzle. We can’t always have the luxury of sunshine and beer gardens like Maike organised the day before. Only the lower slopes of Nephin were visible but we could see a group of early starters showing the way up past the forest to the right on the right side of the Corrie. We hoped over the fence into ‘The Field’ where Eoin gave his final instructions before shouting 3-2-1 and we were off. Brian Furey and Brian Mullins set off with Bernard following closely behind. I tucked in behind Alan Ayling and Mike Jordan. I wasn’t expecting to go to well after the exertions the previous day and night (thankfully I didn’t help Peter with the bag of cans he turned up with on the beach when most were calling it a night!). I felt reasonably comfortable on the climb all things considered. I asked Alan how the head was and he replied ‘grand’ as he maintained a good steady pace and pulled slightly ahead. Did I imaging him having the craic on the beech only a few hours before? For the next hour of racing the three of us were never more than 100m apart. We initially followed the gully to the left of the forest before turning southwest onto open mountain where the ground steepened and any sign of a track disappeared in the heather. From here it was a power walk all the way to the top. The way ahead was made clear by some of the earlier starters and hikers (Jason and Ann giving some words of encouragement) and a row of white post (put there by IMRA???). As we climbed the heather changed for screed and the gradient steeped even more. Eventually the gradient slackened as we approached the summit along a nice grassy section. At the summit trig point Alan had pushed on ahead out of sight and I followed Mike down, initially following the steep edge of the corrie until we were greeted by the summit marshal (Thanks to Fergal) braving the conditions. Without a marshal here it would be very easy to go too far in limited visibility and miss the turning for ridge that leads back to the finish. Continuing north along the ridge, I caught a group of early starters who gave encouragement as I passed. I was right behind Mike as the decent steepened again and we veered to the left hoping to get a good line along the spur that leads to the top corner of ‘The Field’. As we dropped lower I spotted Alan a bit ahead and to the right. From here the way to the finish was clear. We reached the fence as a threesome and into ‘The Field’. I waiting my turn while Alan tried to tangle Mike in the barbed wire :-) From here the ground was as near perfect for a fast finish. The risk of a fall was offset by cushioning of boggy ground. With gravity doing most of the work I just kept my legs in front. I passed Mike just before spotting Brian Furey to the left, having taken a different route (and saving himself for Snowdon the next weekend). Mike said the race was on for third with Alan just ahead. Before the finish there were two ditches to hurdle. I found a nice line and managed to maintain my speed just getting ahead of Alan to the finish. That was proper mountain racing.
A few minutes later we were made aware that a runner had gone missing. Mike organised a mini search party to head back up the field. When all hope was fading the missing runner was found and rescued from a bog hole. The runner was reunited with its foot and all was good.
We were treated to more tea and cakes after, compliments again to Judy and Denise, and then Eoin presented the prizes. Not to be out done by Maike the day before some of the prizes were true Connaght Gold.
There was good banter in the car on the way home about a weekend that we pack so much into. I can see this becoming an annual trip Whest.
Finally a big thanks to all involved in a great weekend, the race directors Maike and Eoin, all volunteers that allowed the races to happen and all who contributed to the craic at Old Head.

Sure it's only 5 k – how hard can it be?!

10 July, 2017 - Alan Ayling

The second day of the Connaught Champs weekend has factors most IMRA races don't. Most runners have done the Irish Champs race the previous day. Numbers are generally smaller on day 2. And then there's the shenanigans of the previous night... the bbq has been a big hit in recent years and it's not unheard of for a little alcohol to be consumed :-)

Croagh Patrick on Day 1 had been run in lovely weather, albeit the very top of the mountain was in and out of the mist. Nephin was going to be different. The rain had abated but the mountain remained shrouded in mist and mystery as we gazed up from the road. Somewhere up there, some 740 vertical metres or so above us, was the lonely trig pillar marking the summit. The views from up there are incredible, alas today there would be no view.

Nonetheless, the numbers were respectable. Eoin set us off after a brief route description (and I don't mean the Ballinastoe type “brief” route description – this one was was genuinely concise!). The initial plod across the boggy field is energy sapping and progress seems so painfully slow. You're aiming for the gully where the stream exits the north coum. Bernard and the Brians (Brian Mullins, looking fresh after his impressive Galty Crossing victory last weekend and Brian Furey, multiple times Irish Champion) led out the group and stayed high and left. Mike Jordan made a beeline for the gully and I followed. The rest came on after, each of us secretly bracing ourselves for the upcoming steep stuff.

At some stage you have to part company with the stream and break up through heather to the right, aiming for the ridge marking the western flank of the coum. The climb is unmerciful. All 740 metres are gained in one go over a space of just under 2.5 km. It's all mountain, here and there a scrap of what you might in a fit of imagination describe as a path, but they peter out after no time. Heather eventually gives way to scree, rock and occasional grass. Wednesday nights are a stroll in the park by comparison.

Unusually, I found myself climbing well. The combination of Buckfast, Guinness and malt whisky from the night before didn't seem to be having any ill effects. I'd edged past Mike in the gully, but he climbed tenaciously a few paces behind and to the left and nothing I could do would shake him off. He'd had a beast of a run on Croagh Patrick and my hopes he'd be tired seemed to be in vain. John & Peter Bell and Barry Murray must have been somewhere behind, perhaps the late night hadn't suited them. Occasional glimpses could be had of the leading trio toiling their way upwards above us.

Some welcome encouragement from early starters, a series of false summits on the never ending ridge... after what seemed an age of climbing the mountain finally gave in and decided to let us have a summit after all. There was the pillar; to its left a lot of cloudy nothing showed where the coum was. Visibility maybe 30 metres, certainly not much more. Keeping the steep drop tight on the left led to the spot where Fergal Buckley patiently waited in the mist to point us down the correct ridge – very much appreciated in the conditions.

And so to the descent. I'd been like an oul' wan on Croagh Patrick the day before, so much so that I had backed off and left the racing for another day, cruised down, letting folk past, enjoying the view and chatting to the marshals. Well, today was another day, there was no view, there was the sound of Mike's feet close behind for incentive... thankfully my mojo had returned. Much as the climb happens in one go, so does the way down. Initially it's rock and scree, then some grassy bits punctuated with rocky patches, lower down when it gets really steep it's grass and heather, then finally in the valley it's that damp sloping field that was so energy sapping on the way up. It calls for a variety of descending skills – from the flat out grassy bits where you can just let it rip and feel like some mountain running deity, to the rocky bits where you just have to slow down and show it some respect or things will go horribly wrong.

I could see Brian Furey's pale blue top in the valley below, no sign of Bernard or Brian Mullins. One, maybe two sets of feet behind. More great encouragement from another group of earlies, then it got steep and things became a blur for some time. Across the flat bit (well, flat relatively speaking) and I see the spot where Eoin had arranged tapes on the fence to guide us back with the least number of fence crossings. It's over to my left and I have to contour a short distance to get to it, just as I get close I see Mike and John Bell closing in on a better line from the left. All semblance of manners is gone as the 3 of us scramble to get over the fence trying not to get caught on the barbed wire. Pretty sure I managed to kick someone in the process, didn't mean to, honestly!

From there to the finish was about as intense a race as I've ever had. I got a lead on the lads, but not much. The ground has a yielding mossy consistency but plenty of grip and the gradient is perfect for going as fast as your legs will allow. Which really does seem ludicrously fast, just giving it everything you can, picking lines, letting gravity do the work. It flattens out a bit for the last couple of hundred metres and that's where John showed his class and got the better of me to nick third place. Brian Furey came in just behind, having veered too far left on the descent and had to correct it. Mike was in seconds behind, just denied a top five by Brian's recovery. Up ahead Bernard had eventually pulled clear to win, having been worked hard by Brian M.

So just how tough can a 5 km race be? You really have to try Nephin for yourself to find out. Suffice to say it's savage. There is more in that 5 k than most routes can even dream about. The climb is fierce, but totally worth it for what must rank as one of the finest descents in the IMRA repertoire. Great to have this gem of a race back on the calendar – long may it remain!

Nephin Carnage

10 July, 2017 - Barry Murray

I won’t call this a race report. Alan Ayling did a great job of describing the route and as I was still over the limit, I can’t remember much of it !

So Nephin, which I had no clue about, started right after Croagh Patrick amongst some beers. We were back in the bar beside the start, sun shining, out in the beer garden. I was talking to John Bell and we were discussing how we didn’t feel too tired . It happens if you are not going full gas or just feel off and can’t go full gas. John was feeling a little off and I just felt like I didn’t go full throttle with the descent. So we were both boasting about how we were up for racing Nephin.

After a few more beers in the sun, the gang returned to the campsite and we hit the beach. Everyone went in for a swim and then we set up the barbee. The beers started flowing and we got the burgers, sausages and skewers going. A great spot on the beach, by the water, a super moon, and a great gang of over 30 imra folk . It felt like it never got dark, the sky was bright until 11pm and then the moon was like a spot light.

The numbers started dwindling around midnight and that left some of the messers about. Peter Bell arrived back from the local pub with 2 bags full of cans. The fire was blazing and the group got closer in a circle. Well over my limit at this stage, I went from craft beers to Heinekin, bad move. Then a friendly elbow I think from Mike, and I had a little bottle of whiskey to sip from. Next, I think it was Fergal, a larger bottle of whiskey appeared with shouts of delight from Alan,, and he kindly passed a cup on to me. Thanks lads ;)

Anyways, long story short, it was a heavy night. Myself and John Bell, the mature Bell, then headed off leaving the real messers behind.

Fell into the tent and went into a coma. Woke up around 8am to sounds of light drizzle and people packing up tents. I knew instantly this was going to be a tough day. I felt like I was back in my under age drinking days after 6 cans and a naggin of something. Worse actually. Anyways, with the “race” an hour drive away, we all had to pack up and get moving. Taking down the tent was painful . My head was throbbing and the thoughts of actually having to run was killing me. I am religiously grinding my coffee every morning and enjoying my first cuppa … but I couldn’t even take that at this stage.

Eventually we got everything packed up into the car and headed off. The lads were groggy too but the younger Bells are more conditioned than I am. John appeared not to fuzzled, the measured man he is. We stopped in Westport at a café and all we could stomach was tea’s and coffee;s. President Pol was making us jealous with a big breakfast roll !

Off then to Nephin in the mist, and then it started to dawn on me that this was going to be a damn hard course. The toughest 5km in Ireland. No real trail, vertical climb and then a plummet off the mountain ridge, choice of route, back to the finish.

Got the runners on, and tried to jog. I managed a shuffle. Brian Furey was looking fresh and Bernard was business as usual so this didn’t help. We all gathered at the base of a boggy field and gazed at the clouded mountain that we were about to run up and down.

As we headed off, my head was starting to finally clear. I trotted off into the bog , just thinking, this is going to be funny. Alan , Mike and John went off ahead of me and all I could think was to just follow them as they at least know where they are going. Bernard, Brian and Brian Mullins went off on further ahead. Alan described the climb up perfectly. Bog, heather, rocks and mountain mist. One of the steepest mountains I;ve even climbed I think. Nearly fell backwards at one stage.

Couldn’t keep up with the 3 lads. Had another lad with me, Justin, and we eventually got to the summit. He didn’t know his way, neither did I, but I remembered Vivian telling me to keep the drop/cliff edge to your left. So we did. Next we found the main marshall , Fergal, pointing what looked like into an Abyss. He was pointing us off the mountain ridge, but it was so misty that all you could see was almost a vertical rocky drop ! So off we went and I was like a pansy at this stage. Like Alan Ayling the day before, I lost my mojo and just was switched off. Still it was fun skidding down the rocks. Then I knew we had to turn left off the ridge. Stopped for a minute to survey with Justin. Couldn’t see anyone on the route but I saw the spot we were supposed to head for. Back tracked on the side of the mountain and then bounced down the descent. Reached the fence with the younger Bell who was marshalling and limped over the barbed wire. A few seconds later we hear shouts and roars. A few more seconds and young Peter Bell flies by me through the ferns. I copped on momentarily and actually started running fast !
The finish was just 500m away or so and we were all pegging it. I then hit the deck and rolled over, started laughing. Got up, and then caught up with Peter as he hit the deck but sprung up fast as well. I was laughing at this thinking I was going to pass him out when I hit the deck again ! Peter and Justin then went ahead of me as we jumped over the last boggy hurdle. By this stage, I think I had sobered up.

Only have myself to blame but it was well worth it. Brilliant weekend.