Just over a year ago, my dad, Alistair Patten, died suddenly from a heart attack whilst driving home after a pleasant walk with his wife Marion. He calmly pulled over, parked the car on the grass verge, stopped the engine, said ‘funny do’ and fell silent.
This was a big shock for all of us. His funeral took place on 9th December 2021, which would have been his 88th birthday.
It’s fair to say my dad lived a full life. Sport and the natural environment at the centre of everything. First as a cyclist with the Clarion club in Clitheroe, where he met my mum. Then running with his beloved Clayton le Moors Harriers. He was one of the early fell running and orienteering pioneers. Bob Graham Club member 22.
Dad in his favourite running vest
Together with close friends, Gerry Charnley and Ken Turner, in 1963, they organised the UK’s first orienteering event at Whitewell in the Ribble Valley, the year after I was born. They also collaborated on the first two day mountain marathon, formerly the KIMM, now TheOMM.
Dad helped set up Pendle Forest Orienteers and took part in the very first World Orienteering Championships in Finland in 1966, finishing first Brit, ahead of Olympian and GB team mate, Gordon Pirie.
Dad’s original map of the 1966 World Orienteering Championships in Finland – looks well hard!
He ran 21 consecutive Three Peak Races; climbed all the Scottish Munros; set up the Ribble Way walking route. Dad also organised lots of events too – fell races, road races, orienteering events, even the UK’s very first triathlon, the Ribble Valley Triathlon. One of his road races, the Ribble Valley 10K, is still going strong some 45 years later!
So it’s thanks to dad that my eyes were opened from a young age to sports in general, event organising in particular and the wonders of our natural world. I’ve certainly inherited his love of maps and finding my own way.
Fly fishing was another big passion for my dad – here he is with a whopper salmon
Dad always kept himself busy, preferring the outside world to being indoors. Of course, all these achievements and time away from the family came at a cost. No-one’s perfect. It takes a while coming to terms with all the mixed up emotions a close family bereavement stirs up.
Twenty years ago, when I turned 40, bored with my professional life as an Optometrist, I found myself following in his footsteps.
I’ve always loved the glitz and glamour, the hype, colour, noise and sheer professional spectacle of European mountain trail races such as Sierre-Zinal in Switzerland. So I started the Lakeland Trails events in 2004, here where I live in the Lake District, essentially bringing a new model and the sport of trail running to the UK.
Lakeland Trails in Keswick
Three years ago, in preparation for a pre-Brexit family move to France, after 100 Lakeland Trails events involving over 150,000 competitors, I passed the flag over to our event manager, Phil Blaylock. Satisfied I’d left them in safe hands, we packed our bags for sunnier climes, then … COVID-19, Lockdown and we missed that window of opportunity.
Dad mountaineering in Scotland
Dad passed away over a year ago and my brother Andrew couldn’t travel for the funeral from his home in Australia due to COVID restrictions. He eventually managed to fly back in September 2022 and along with my older sister Suzan, we climbed one of dad’s favourite mountains, Pen-Y-Ghent, for sunrise, spreading his ashes high into the cold morning air.
On the summit of Pen-Y-Ghent for sunrise with my brother Andrew, and sister Suzan
Returning to orienteering five or six years ago was an eye-opener. The sport hasn’t changed much in the 30 years since last competing regularly. Initially, I just wanted to try and inspire Ash with having a go at the map reading ‘survival skills’ of navigation, taking part as a family.
Ash orienteering in Europe in 2018
We lived for a year in France in 2017-18, joining a lovely French club, PSNO. Even my non-running partner Claire enjoyed taking part in the glitzy French orienteering events. Or maybe she just liked wearing the fetching pink and blue maillot festooned with the club’s sponsors?
Returning to the UK, we noticed much more how low-key, niche and off-the-radar the sport actually is. Not as family friendly as the French events. An ageing profile with a dearth of youngsters. Certainly not much glitz and glamour anywhere. Ash and Claire don’t enjoy orienteering much anymore and have pretty much given up.
Our time in France impressed us with how vibrant, young, inclusive and exciting orienteering could be, even using town centres, villages and parkland.
2022 World Masters Orienteering Champion
This year I’ve been honing my own orienteering skills, and was delighted to win Gold in the World Masters Orienteering Championships in Italy during the summer.
I’ve also been thinking a lot, now I’ve got time on my hands. Wondering if a European approach may work here in the UK, on the totally different sport of orienteering? Attempt to bring in some much needed new blood. Try another way. My mantra has always been, ‘make it fun and the kids will come’. It certainly works with Lakeland Trails and Phil is still doing a great job, working hard to keep that flag flying high, the events as popular as ever.
European orienteering, Italian style
Dad left some inheritance money and I could think of no better use than using mine to underwrite something new with his favourite sport of orienteering. My brother Andrew and sisters Suzan and Carole think so too.
A tribute to my dad
It’s been exciting creating something different and unique. I’ve always loved big ideas that inspire others, especially young people. So I’ve come up with a totally new event concept, for those who want to learn some navigation skills in a fun and family friendly environment. A stepping stone into the world of orienteering. Maybe a more achievable option.
Just as Lakeland Trails was set up to encourage normal, everyday people to step off the roads and onto the trails, this new event is going to help people learn to practice navigation skills, so they too can safely step off the trails and into the natural world, the home of our native wild fox. So, I’ve simply called the event Wild Fox Trails.
We’re planning to launch the first event in the Lake District sometime this year.
With luck, we hope to make it a fitting tribute to my dad!
Well, what an enjoyable experience that was. Battered by strong winds, drenched by heavy rain showers, freezing cold, fingers numb.
I’ve just come back from my first pain free run for four months. A nice, easy, ten minute jog on the limestone escarpment of Cunswick Scar, perched above my home town of Kendal. Every springy step a small miracle of hope. The last time I ran without discomfort was in the sprint final of the World Masters Orienteering Championships, in the heat and bright sunshine of Italy back in July.
World Masters Sprint Final 2021
Maybe pushing myself so hard on that day was too much of a risk with a dodgy achilles. Was a Gold medal really worth being sidelined with injury for four months?
Absolutely! Without question.
World Masters Sprint Podium 2022
It’s been quite a journey just getting back to this stage. Patience being tested after another freak acute injury in September knocking me down again. This time damaging nerves, my foot collapsing. The snakes and ladders of life.
Yet throughout, I’ve been in safe hands. My physio, Sarah Tunstall, easing out damaged tissues, getting back to basics, exercises strengthening withered elastic fibres. Playing the long game. Walk before you run.
Making me realise there’s a kind of pleasure in accepting being injured. When you’re immobile and have your feet wrapped in ice packs, unable to even walk properly. Thinking you’ll never, ever, run again. Then remembering all the other times. Broken bones. Sprained ankles.
Deep inside, you know it’s a matter of time. Just do what needs doing, one day at a time.
So easy when you can simply go out for a run. You take things for granted. Having your choice removed gives way more appreciation when the good times return, as they hopefully always do.
It’s the gift of adversity.
My mind homes in on this realisation, thinking back to COVID19 nearly three years ago. Our family hopes and dreams of a life in France shattered and broken by the pandemic. With combined deadlines of Brexit and our son Ash reaching secondary school age. It was a perfect time for us to make a move. Suddenly everything’s shut. French schools closed. The country in Lockdown.
Unable to travel and check out school options, we realise how unfair it would be for Ash to make a new start in a different country. The shock as reality hits home.
Lakeland Trails in Keswick
All the years of planning, handing over my life’s work with Lakeland Trails to make a new start in a new country possible. Gone.
With situations totally out of our control, we could only make the best decisions under the circumstances. Family comes first. Ash started secondary school here in Kendal just over a year ago. He’s happy and settled. It’s working out well.
Buttermere, Lake District
Accepting our changed circumstances was hard after having such high hopes. Coming to terms with life here in England, as opposed to the warmer climes of the Pyrenees. I guess it was always more of my dream than my partner Claire’s, being always ready for a new challenge.
Just like my achilles injury, it took some time, patience and perseverance to eventually sort things out. It comes good. By looking hard enough, there’s always another gift of adversity. We know we’re very lucky to live here in the Lake District.
Helvellyn, Lake District
Though having no involvement with Lakeland Trails anymore, there’s pride and pleasure seeing my living legacy, still going strong under the leadership of Phil Blaylock. Everything pretty much the same as always.
Helvellyn Trail 2021
Most folk nowadays don’t even know who I am when I’m at the events and anyway, I like keeping a low profile, after being at the helm for almost two decades.
I’m still looking for a new challenge though. Big ideas that push boundaries and inspire others excite me. Lakeland Trails was one of these. Maybe the time is right to start a whole new project here in the Lakes?
As the saying goes, ‘you may have a plan for life, but life may have a plan for you’.
“The struggle is great, the task divine – to gain mastery, freedom, happiness and tranquility” Epictetus
Monday morning and already the thermometer shows over 30’C in Vieste, Italy and it’s not even 8am. Decision made. Back up to the cool shade in Foresta Umbra, the venue for the recent 2022 World Masters Orienteering Championships.
Opening ceremony in Vieste
Hard to believe almost 3000 competitors were here only a couple of days ago. Now the woods are empty, I have them all to myself. It’s my first run since finishing the Long Distance race on Saturday and my right achilles has tightened up.
First I go for a walk, stretch the legs, have a look at where the finish Arena was. Just a few butterflies fluttering around in the sunny grass paddock. A big terrapin plops into the brown water of the lake when I venture for a closer look.
Back to lace up my shoes, then a slow jog with a map and my phone for taking photos.
Foresta Umbra is perched high above the coastline of south-eastern Italy, around 1000m above sea level. It’s ancient beech woodland on limestone. In addition to the usual hills, lumps and bumps, there are huge holes worn into the rock.
This makes the orienteering here so challenging. Contours mark both hills and these depressions creating confusion with your mental picture when you mistake one for the other. It’s also hard to see these big depressions from far away. They only take shape when you’re right on the edge. Some of them are very steep, guarded by cliffs a few metres high.
Sprint Qualification in Peschici
A perfect place for these World Championships.
Jogging along and the map reading is easy. It’s a whole different ball game with the pressure of competition, when you’re running as hard as you can, making smart decisions, trying to look at map, compass and the ground all at the same time. Difficult to ignore other competitors running in all directions, some going quicker and looking more competent than you.
It’s such a tempting place to run faster than you can map read. A small error can lose a huge amount of time as everywhere looks the same and can be made to ‘fit’ with only a small amount of imagination.
So easy to lose concentration. Any lapse is going to get punished severely.
Confidence – gone.
Sprint Qualification in Peschici
That’s the game. That’s the reason we do it. To test ourselves against the forest, the terrain, the map and the course. It’s both physically and mentally challenging.
You’re on your own. It’s a time trial and you haven’t a clue which way others are going to the various checkpoints, or how fast they may be running. The pressure can mount too as the fastest orienteers in qualifying set off last. Only when everyone has finished do you get to compare times, see how you fared, what your final position is.
Anyone can have a ‘good run’ orienteering. Do enough events and one of them is sure to stand out.
Yet it’s harder to produce the goods when it really matters. And the World Masters is the biggest stage of all for orienteers around the world aged 35 and over. Being an ‘open’ championships, you’re not ‘picked’ to represent your country, so there’s no politics to bother about. No selection policies, no selection panels.
Anyone, anywhere, can have a dream, enter online, put the hard yards in, turn up and see what they’re made of against the best in the World.
That’s what I like most about the event.
Sprint Final Medal ceremony in Vieste
So what does success feel like now that I’ve stood on top of the podium with a gold medal round my neck after the Sprint Final and can now call myself a World Champion?
Here’s a great definition of success from the coach John Wooden:
“Success is peace of mind, which is a direct result of self-satisfaction in knowing you made the effort to do your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming”
I’m sitting in a doctor’s surgery waiting for my appointment. I can’t walk properly anymore. Most of my toes are battered and bruised, the nails blackened, and my left big toe is horribly swollen and inflamed with infection.
Let me explain.
I’ve been up in Scotland for a week, helping my friend Dan achieve a life long ambition to complete a continuous Munro round climbing all 282 of them. For the uninitiated, Munros are all the mountains in Scotland over 3000ft, and the idea is that you do it all under your own steam : running and walking in the mountains, cycling or kayaking between them.
The proposition initially sounded quite simple – just come along to keep Dan company, maybe carry some extra gear for him, going nice and slow for a few hours each day, no worries…
The reality was a little different.
Dan Duxbury is a likeable primary school teacher from Kendal, renowned for his good humour and general bonhomie. Unfortunately for all his friends and family, 20 years ago, Dan read “Running High”, by Hugh Symonds. Hugh was an outdoor fitness fanatic who taught at a posh public school in Sedbergh and decided to take time off work for a personal challenge to complete all the Scottish Munros under his own steam. The momentum of his efforts, along with, I guess, a strong desire not to return back to work, made him extend the trip to Wales and then Ireland.
Dan read the book and wanted to follow in his footsteps.
There’s nothing like a deadline to get a job done, and I guess Dan turning 40 this year has had the desired effect. A plan was made. A plea was made. The school governors met in secret in the Rifleman’s pub in Kendal and after 7 pints agreed to let Dan take some unpaid leave to see if he could emulate Hugh.
It’s not as though he’d be needed for an Offsted inspection or anything …
So Dan set off on 14th April 2014, determined to stick to Stephen Pike, “Spike’s” record schedule, mainly because it was easier to follow Spike’s than to create a new schedule of his own. Spike completed his continuous Munro round in 2010 in 39 days, and Dan re-worked the schedule to his own requirements, making his own record attempt of 38 days.
Remarkably, Dan kept on Spike’s schedule for the first 14 days until an unlucky twisted ankle forced him to take a day off. Instead of just enjoying a few weeks of freedom from work, he got the ankle strapped up, paid a visit to a pharmacy, and got stuck in.
I joined the team a week ago, as a weak excuse to get away from the responsibilities of having a young family and running a business, and to “enjoy” a week in the mountains of Bonnie Scotland with some good friends.
I travelled up to Scotland with Fred – aka Jon Deegan, a specialist optometrist who works three days a week preying on the rich, old and vulnerable who have come to the Lake District to live out their twilight years. The rest of the week he’s out running in the hills or cycling on the lanes, skiing in the winter – he only stops for food and drink. Fred is 47 years old, but could outrun someone 20 years younger. His cheekbones stand out like a challenge, as if to say, “come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough”.
Time keeping isn’t one of Fred’s strong points though, and we eventually set off from Kendal 3 or 4 hours later than planned. We called Ben at mission control with our new ETA. After a short detour to one of Fred’s favourite Highland pubs for haggis, neeps, tatties, and a pint to quench our thirst, we finally joined Dan and the team an hour later than expected. We pitched the small two man tent in the pouring rain, crawled into our sleeping bags, and got rudely awoken only hours later at 3am by a cacophony of bird song.
We’d been assured by Dan that the first day was an “easy” day, with a late start, so we didn’t need to get up until 6am and could have a lie in. By 7am we were on our way in Fred’s car to our rendezvous point near Loch Laggan a few miles up the road. Dan would be cycling there – into the wind, into the rain. We’d been loaded up with all the food for the day, Dan’s gear, ice axes, poles etc and headed off in good spirits into the heavy grey clouds where the hills must be. It even stopped raining briefly so we could get our bearings and admire the rainbows. Dan quickly caught us up – this time he was on a mountain bike, having exchanged the road bike at the rendezvous point. He rode as far as he could along the rough track, before discarding the bike. It would be picked up later by Ben & Christeen during a romantic walk in the rain.
So the three of us climbed into the clouds, following the compass bearing to the summit of Creag Pitridh, the first of the seven Munros on today’s schedule. Most of the Munros have stupid, made up, Scottish names, a jumbled mix of vowels and consonants that no one can pronounce or even remember afterwards. This adds to the charm of the whole enterprise of Munro bagging, as you can only talk about them in sweeping, generalised terms. These next two days would in future be referred to as the Ben Alder Munros – it makes it sound easy, as though you’ve only been up one mountain, when in fact the real tally is fourteen.
On the penultimate snow capped summit, we were greeted by the distinctive lone figure of Mark Roberts, appearing like a Ghost runner out of the clouds. Mark had cycled more than 10 miles on a mountain bike, with Sam, to our overnight accommodation, both weighed down with more food, extra clothing and camping gear. Now he’d run up today’s final two Munros to guide us safely back down the dangerously steep, narrow snow slope – the only way off the mountain.
When we reached the valley floor eight and a half hours after setting off, the bothy was closed, contaminated with asbestos. “Do not enter, serious health risk” said the signs. But it was raining hard, we were wet through and cold, the bothy was understandably empty and we would have it all to ourselves. It also had a wood burner with three damp pieces of wood and five soggy pieces of peat. The main selling point though was the door was unlocked, so we threw caution to the wind and made it our home for the night.
We got a miserable, smouldering fire going eventually. It didn’t give off any heat, but the dense smoke masked the asbestos dust. We kidded ourselves that this was better than camping. We huddled around a “pocket rocket” gas stove boiling water to rehydrate dinner. To cook, you simply pour the boiling water into a bag of toxic looking dust, leave for 5 or 6 minutes, until the mess has turned into a sludge, then eat it all up trying to guess what the hell it is. It’s survival food really, and Dan has been eating this filth since he started. He even had his favourite brand. Sad but true.
It’s worth looking on at the scene inside, from the fly on the wall perspective. Not that there were any flies in this particular bothy anymore – they’d all died long ago from asbestosis. This imaginary fly can see four grown men, grey stubble on the chins of three, and a silver beard on the chin of Dan, their “master”, all sitting close together in semi darkness, in thick smoke, wearing plastic shopping bags on their feet, stinking of stale goat, and steaming gently, telling stories and laughing. They are ENJOYING themselves! Their wives and children are all watching telly back home in the comfort of their warm living rooms, yet this quartet seem to PREFER the bothy after eight and a half hours of running over seven huge mountains in the rain.
We were woken abruptly early the next morning. The hammering rain on the roof of the bothy suddenly stopped, and an eerie silence shattered our slumber, making us all wake with a start, as if still in a dream. It really had stopped raining though, we could quite clearly hear Fred attending to a call of nature outside, against the back wall of the bothy.
Breakfast was more dehydrated filth, this time the sludge had a porridge like consistency, and it was some relief to find all the dried food had been consumed and we could get outside, get moving, and warm up again. The clock was ticking and it would soon be 6.30am. Dan assured us we were in for another easy day and we spent the first hour dreaming about having a good strong coffee in Fort William later that afternoon, after knocking off the seven Munros on today’s list. The only one anyone can remember, is also the biggest of the lot, Ben Alder.
We left Mark behind to tidy everything up. There was no point in all four of us being exposed unnecessarily to the dangerous asbestos dust, and Mark was the oldest. He’d had a good life so far, and it would probably end soon anyway on the ten mile mountain bike ride back to his van parked at Dalwhinnie, weighed down by an impossibly heavy rucksac of wet, used running and camping gear, including Fred’s four season sleeping bag.
With the weather looking good, the views were truly spectacular. Yet this also made things a shade harder for us, as today we could actually see where we were going. The mountains on our list looked enormous, and the distances between them appeared impossible.
You can tell the Scottish prefer a wee dram inside a warm pub to hill walking, as there are very few signs of the eroded paths we take for granted in the Lake District. This means you’re pretty much on your own in the mountains and you have to find your own routes. Underfoot conditions varied from thigh deep peat bog to ankle deep peat bog, with some rock and snow near the summits. This meant you were literally wading through wet, cold, black bog all day long. It was a relief to cross the streams and rivers to briefly wash it all off before starting the process all over again. With no paths to follow, we simply took straight vertical lines up and down the Munros, and straight lines between them.
After seven hours, we were still some way off finishing, and still had three Munros to climb. We had a food amnesty and pooled our remaining meagre resources to divide up the final calories for the day. In an asbestosis fuelled fit of enthusiasm, Mark had suggested catching up with us for the final few Munros. Providing, of course, he’d survived the weighed down mountain bike ride back to his van. We knew he was out there somewhere too, because we’d passed his “spoor” some time ago – footprints of his size 4 ½ Mudclaws heading off in the opposite direction. Despite the good weather and good visibility, he’d not seen us.
We’d been banking on Mark to bring us much needed extra food, and we chatted amongst the three of us about how selfish some of these elite international athlete types can be. Going off on their own on long training runs when they really should be helping Dan.
After ten hours, there were still two Munros left and we were half way up a vertical incline when the silhouette of a stag appeared on the distant horizon behind us. We were hallucinating slightly as the stag was a small one and only had two legs with no antlers and seemed to be shouting. It was Mark. We were saved. There was still a long way of vertical ascent to go before we would meet in the middle of the col, and we guessed what goodies he may have brought for us. Fresh doughnuts with jam inside, dusted with sugar? Three mini pork pies each and a family sized packet of smoky bacon flavoured crisps to share between us? Sandwiches of avocado, bacon and mixed salad leaves with a light balsamic dressing on thick wholemeal bread plastered with REAL butter?
When we finally met with our saviour, we wolfed down the packet of Jaffa cakes on offer, and headed for the summit. Having saved us from starvation, Mark then jogged off on another long training run on his own and left us to get on with the day’s final Munro – Stob Coire Sgriodain. That really is what it’s called by the way, I’m not just making it up.
By the time cars and vans had been picked up from various rendezvous points, kit sorted, a quick meal wolfed down, it had gone dark, was well after 11pm and it had started raining again. Fred set off on the long drive back to Kendal throughout the night so he could be in time for his daughter’s 10th birthday, arriving home around 4.30am.
Another restless night in a wet tent with damp sleeping bag and the improbable 3am dawn chorus, then into yesterday’s wet and smelly gear, then off again at 6.30am with Dan and Mark for a long, long day ticking off the 10 Munros of the Grey Corries – Ben Nevis being the only one of the group that can be remembered, and that beast was the final one of the day. I dropped off Aonach Mor to hitch back to get Mark’s van, but that’s another story. As was the next day, with the 10 Munros of the Mamores.
So that covers the first few days and the week keeps going and going with the days on the hill getting longer and longer culminating in a mammoth 15 ½ hour day and 8 Munros on Knoydart. I could write a whole book about that experience.
The combination of trench foot conditions for 12-15 hours a day, kicking snow steps with Mudclaws, little sleep and poor hygiene finally reduced me to the damaged state I’m now in. Almost everyone coming back from Scotland is in a similar situation – broken and humbled by the sheer scale of this daily challenge.
Yet remarkably, one bearded, determined, strong, young man keeps going relentlessly and shows no signs of stopping. Despite the pain from his ankle, despite the impossible, monumental task he has set for himself, despite the lack of sleep, despite missing his family, Dan continues to make incredible progress, setting off at dawn and finishing at dusk, day after day after day.
It’s been an amazing week in so many ways, yet there is an image that stays with me, of Dan rhythmically climbing yet another almost vertical slope, not stopping for a breather until he’s reached the summit, then jogging off in search of the next one on his list.
Dan, you are an inspiration – thank you for letting me play a small part in your amazing Munro round. I’m already looking forward to sharing a celebratory pint with you on your successful return.
“You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you’ve got”
17th March 2022
I’d forgotten all about writing this piece until recently finding ‘Running High’ in a charity shop, the book written by Hugh Symonds and the inspiration for Dan Duxbury’s own solo round in 2014. I thought it would be good to publish on my own website, as it brought back so many happy memories of a great week in Scotland. Most of the photos were taken in better weather conditions on Knoydart. Me and Dan set off at 4.45am, completing all the 8 Munros in an epic 15 hour day. It finished me off, yet Dan kept on going, with a further 99 Munros left to complete the lot.
Thursday evening and I’m a little apprehensive. This was my first time recording a Zoom chat and I’m interviewing GB athlete Chris Holdsworth. I’ve known Chris for a number of years. He’s a Lakeland Trails regular, one of inov-8’s ambassadors, a proper nice guy and I’m looking forward to finding out a bit more about him.
I’m nervous because me and tech don’t get on. I think something’s bound to go wrong, that I’ll cock it all up and will waste Chris’s evening.
To my surprise, everything technical went smoothly. Almost two hours later, conversation still in full flow, we had to call a halt. It was way past my bedtime!
Here’s a snapshot of the recording of my ‘run in with Chris’.
When did you first start running?
I was around 22, so a late starter, really. It was after finishing studying for an Arts degree at Leeds. Running was just not on my radar back then and when I did start, it was like being introduced to another world. I did a couple of low key races, setting off too fast and dying badly. Then in 2015 my Uncle Breton took me along to the Lakeland Trails in Cartmel and that event completely blew me away. I was hooked and in love with the sport.
How many Lakeland Trails have you run and won? Which is your favourite?
So far, I’m up to 16 Lakeland Trails events, winning 9 of them. Every time I run one of the courses, I think that’s my favourite. Then I change my mind when I run a different one, and that becomes my new favourite. Currently, it’s the Coniston Trail, I think!
Would you please tell me a little bit about yourself?
I’m 31, Burnley born and bred, living here with my wife Sophie – we married only a month ago, the pandemic threw our plans out a bit. Until very recently I worked as a Marketing Manager. I’m a member of Clayton le Moors Harriers for road, trail and cross country and Calder Valley Fell Runners for fell races.
How often do you train?
I train a minimum of 6 days a week, with either an easy jog or a rest day usually on the Friday, or working around the current job if needs be. Usually I will clock around 8-9 hours of running and aim to get 80 miles in by the Sunday. A comfortable target at the minute, and aim to increase this, body allowing, to progress the long distance running further.
Any cross training?
I wish I enjoyed cycling, but anytime I cycle, I just wish I was running! I strength train, focusing mainly on glute activation as I’m woefully weak from years at sitting at a desk.
What about your metrics – your resting pulse, height and weight, could you share these with me please?
My resting pulse averages between 40-42. I am 5ft 11” and weigh 9 stone 10 – at least I did the day before my wedding just over a month ago. I’ll pretend it’s still the same despite a honeymoon, Christmas and my birthday occurring since then!
How about PB Times?
5K: 14.55 (Podium 5K in 2018)
10K: 30.27 (Telford 10K in 2018)
Half Marathon: 68.21 (North Lakes New Year Half Marathon in 2019)
Marathon: 2.37.11 (Edinburgh Marathon) – although have since run a 2.28 marathon including 1,700 ft of climb in training during Lockdown, though I don’t think Power of 10 will accept it!
Favourite Running Shoes?
For long distances, I’ll use inov-8 Terra Ultra G270. For short distances I usually switch between the inov-8 X-Talon 210 and inov-8 X-Talon 225 depending on the length and technicality of the course.
You have represented Great Britain a few times. How did your International journey start?
By accident, really. I ran in the Three Peaks Race without realising it was a Trial Race for the GB Team. So it was a real surprise being told afterwards when I finished 3rd and sub 2 hours 55 minutes, that I was selected to run for Great Britain in the World Long Distance Mountain Running Championships in Premana, Italy. The course was the most technical I’d ever run, far from my comforts of pure out and out speed on runnable trails and was a tough day at the office. Finishing battered and bruised, in around 35th, from memory, but gaining lots of experience from it. Sadly, injuries and pandemics kept me out of subsequent qualification races, despite feeling a much stronger runner since then, so hopefully I can have another crack at that again in the future.
Best GB Position?
Possibly coming 2nd at the Snowdon International Mountain Race. Maybe I was good enough to win on the day, but misjudging the climb, arriving at the top in 5th, managing to pull it back with a descent, passing Zak Hanna, Rob Samuel and the late Chris Smith to finish first GB runner home.
Now I hear you’re following in my footsteps and have become a race organiser. Could you tell me how the Pennine Trails came about?
I started Pennine Trails in 2019. We started from scratch, with no investment and nothing but our enthusiasm, a love of trail running and creating good time experiences. After one year, and a Global Pandemic, we have 7 races to our name and intend to expand further.
They’re an open love letter to Lakeland Trails and some European trail races – my sole intention is to bring exciting and scenic trail races to the Pennines.
Thanks very much for your time Chris – it’s been a pleasure and best of luck for the future!
After our interview, I thought about all the things we’d talked about, liking Chris, as a person, even more. An open love letter? What a lovely thing to say about the Lakeland Trails, events I’d put my own heart and soul into for 16 years.
If inspiration is the spark that ignites the fire, then motivation is surely what keeps that fire burning.
That pull to get out when it’s freezing cold, grey and pouring down outside. When you feel knackered after a poor night’s sleep. Despite the time demands of family and work life. The persistence, patience and optimism you need to struggle with an illness or injury.
High on Helvellyn
It’s easy when the sun’s shining, when things go well. Yet how do we keep our motivation going strong when the wheels fall off?
We all have times when things don’t go to plan. When life throws a ‘wild card’ and it’s a struggle to come to terms with a cheese that’s moved. The wind goes out of our sails. Motivation ebbs away.
When I started writing this piece, I was two months into a chronic achilles injury that just wasn’t responding to physio treatment. I couldn’t run a step. Now I’m back running and on the road to recovery. It’s taken almost four months, yet I’ve taken strength from others who have had even greater hardships to overcome.
Covid-19 has been a big one affecting motivation in all of us, especially young people.
Imagine being just 17 or 18 again. You’re motivated, training hard in Lockdown on your own, dreaming of that big moment. Putting in the miles running from home, using a turbo trainer or treadmill indoors. Succeeding in the GB Orienteering Trials, getting picked to represent your country for a major Junior Championship.
Then bang. It’s over.
At the last minute the GB team is pulled from the event. Dreams are shattered. Totally and utterly demoralising. Enough to put out anyone’s fire.
How do you motivate a young person after such a setback?
Remarkable then, that one young woman, Megan Keith, simply switched to a different discipline, winning the recent Under 20’s European Cross Country Championships in Ireland. Another gold medal to add to the World Junior Orienteering Championship gold relay medal she won in Denmark two years ago. What a role model she is!
As we get older and more experienced with life’s ups and downs, it’s easier to rationalise, to see the upside of these hurdles. Being injured for a few months was like that for me. What could I do to keep myself motivated? Maybe start seeing my injury as an opportunity?
Time to change old habits? Try something new? Every day that passes can now go into recharging my motivation batteries. Just thinking how great it’s going to be when the injury has resolved, running pain-free again, helps with motivation.
Running pain free in Hungary, August 2021
It concentrates mind and body overcoming challenges. Doing what it takes. Getting advice and treatment. The dreaded cross training. Strength and conditioning exercises.
No better time to set yourself a lofty goal or two. Enter an event in the distant future – in my case, the World Masters Orienteering Championships in Italy next July and of course, some of the Lakeland Trails events.
Sit down and make a plan. You can drop me a line if you need help or any coaching advice.
I could still go Nordic walking with poles in the mountains and on the Lakeland Trails instead of running, to shouts of ‘where are your skis’? Using poles is great cross training too, taking 25-30% load off your lower limbs, improving upper body strength and keeping stride symmetry, essential when you’re recovering from injury and have a tendency to favour the non injured leg.
The author Nordic walking October’s Ullwater Trail
And who would have thought cycling on a turbo trainer in the dark winter nights could actually be a perverse kind of pleasure? Additional aerobic, impact free, training hours too.
Reading, or listening, to books. Almost any biography written about a famous sporting person will reveal how they overcame their own hardships and challenges, over and over again. My all time favourite amongst these is “Unbroken” by Laura Hillenbrand.
Closer to home, taking inspiration from others by remembering success stories from a couple of the runners I have worked with. Witnessing first hand and achieving what was thought impossible, such as Jamie Rennie’s Bob Graham Round back in April.
Jamie Rennie with son Charlie training for the Bob on the Helvellyn ridge
Matt Jenkinson’s zero to hero dream of running the Lakeland 50 and the kind words he sent me afterwards:
“The goal of running the Lakeland 50 was born from frustration at a National lockdown affecting other activities, a need to stay fit following the birth of my son and the realisation that, at nearly 40 years old, I had never trained for any physical activity, or goal, in my life.
It took a lot of work, and a lot of support and advice from Graham, to get me over that line. It felt like every single step during training I’d had to grit my teeth and remind myself of the goal to get through.
Snowing – tough. Can’t be bothered – tough. Too hilly – tough.
When I crossed that line, it seemed like every single minute of grind and effort was released in a wave of relief, excitement, sadness that it was over and personal pride that I had shown I could do this, mentally and physically.
I was a walking contradiction.
I told the lady who met me and my friend at the line that I was never running again, whilst also wondering when the 2022 entries would open again.
Do it. Find a goal, find the right people to support you ,and go for it. You won’t regret it and those emotions at the finish line will stay with you, if not indefinitely, for a very long time. And then you will need a top up!”
Matt Jenkinson, Finisher, Lakeland 50, July 2021 (and 2022 entrant!)
Matt immediately after finishing the Lakeland 50
Reminders that nothing really memorable or worthwhile comes easy in life. We need these setbacks to test our character, to see what we’re made of. We can all look for the gift in adversity.
As the sun sets on another year, there’s no better time to put our motivation in motion right now. Is there?
Finding Inspiration at the Lakeland Trails “Dirty Double”
Isn’t it always the same when you’re side-lined with a running injury? As days turn to weeks, then into months, there’s almost an acceptance that races are a thing of the past. Having achilles trouble has meant I haven’t run with a spring in my step for three months.
High on the Kentmere fells
That’s not stopped me from enjoying the mountains, the autumn, the fresh air and even exercising. I’m still able to Nordic walk with poles, get on my bike and go for a ride. Then there are the boring exercises from my physio. Tentative easy walk/jogs along the river, hoping to see the flash of a kingfisher.
It’s just not the same as bounding along, day-dreaming about how fast you may be able to run one day.
Hard to believe that the last time was in the heat of the summer, in the World Masters Orienteering Championships in Hungary, finishing 4th, only twelve seconds behind the winner. That race was the beginning of the end.
Finishing the World Masters Championships in Hungary back in August
Running too fast, too soon without a cushion of decent training in the bank. Punching above my body weight. Coming as it did only ten weeks after a bad fall in the woods of Witherslack. Racing at full tilt, when my foot caught in rusty wire from a fence hidden in the bracken. In a split second I was shot down. Suffering broken ribs, a dislocated finger, a whack to my head and torn quad muscles when I was reaching the peak of fitness after months of hard training.
Dreams shattered and a literal tumbling back down to earth.
When Lakeland Trails Event Director, Phil Blaylock, reminded me about running at Helvellyn and Ullswater a few weeks ago, I told him that I was still injured and couldn’t make it. Somehow, this final straw made the wind go out of my sails. I could feel my motivation ebbing away.
However, my mantra with the runners I coach, is that when things don’t go to plan, they should always look for the gift in adversity.
Maybe I could take part in the Challenge events instead? Walk them, instead of running them? Take my poles along? Enjoy the atmosphere, the views, the moving mass of humanity threading their way along these beautiful Lakeland Trails.
Would this give me some much needed inspiration to persevere in my long battle with injury?
At the start of this year’s Ullswater Trail
After all, that’s why I set up the Lakeland Trails all those years ago. To make them as inclusive as possible. As much an occasion for the back markers as the front runners.
So, on Saturday 6th November, I made my way to Glenridding in lashing rain. Proper Lake District weather. Taking my place at the back of the main Challenge ‘wave’, setting off at a walk, a gentle ribbing by friends who would normally expect me to be running.
My plan was to Nordic walk everything uphill and anything on tarmac, jogging only the flat sections and descents. Hope not to get carried away. Look after my achilles.
At first, I was so far behind everyone, I wondered if it was such a smart idea. Gradually, I caught up some of the competitors suffering from setting off too fast. I could now enjoy the banter, smiles and camaraderie that make the Lakeland Trails so special.
After the Helvellyn YHA, the trail double backed and levelled out, and I could jog along, even overtaking a few folk.
Battling the elements on the Helvellyn Trail
My ‘secret weapon’ is knowing pretty much every step of the route, every slippery rock. Having planned all the Lakeland Trails courses and run them many, many times over the last two decades, it was great being back on familiar terrain. Even better without the demands of racing. Or organising!
Simply admiring the views, enjoying the shock from some of the marshals who would suddenly recognise me with a double take. Then I’d stop, say a few words, thank them and move on.
With marshal Geoff Lowe on the Ullswater Trail
By the time I’d finished the Helvellyn Trail, I was really looking forward to the new route on Sunday’s Ullswater Trail. I said a few words at the prize giving, thanked Phil and his amazing team and drove home, soaked through, yet buzzing.
Autumn colours by Ullswater
The next day, my spirits were soaring just walking to the start. Autumnal sunshine filtering through the trees by the side of Ullswater. Views to die for.
This was going to be epic.
At the start of the Ullswater Trail
Keeping the same plan as yesterday, I set off at the back of the Challenge. With more tarmac at the start, I was miles behind everyone by the time we hit the trails.
High on the Ullswater Trail
It was difficult to get into a rhythm. The scenery meant I just had to keep stopping to take photos. I even took photos for others who were running together, memories that will hopefully last them through the dark days of winter.
High on the Ullswater Trail
More encouragement between those being overtaken and those overtaking. Everyone buzzing, high on endorphins, euphoric.
Enjoying the Ullswater Trail
Simply a joy to be alive in this special part of the world.
Two Lakeland Trails legends, pirate Kev Kendal, and photographer James Kirby
Then I caught up with a pirate wearing gold hot pants. Kev Kendal has been a regular at the events for years and years. We chatted on the climb to Boredale Hause, remembering some good old times on the Steamer with the RockTarts in fancy dress.
The Ginger Bread Man from ten years ago on the Ullswater Trail
I remembered my all time favourite, Lee dressed as a gingerbread man, and my pun at the time for the fancy dress winner “this one takes the biscuit”.
The finish in sight
Too soon, the finish appeared on the shores of Ullswater and I stepped across the timing mat. A chat in the sunshine with Phil and star runner Jonny Cox, before returning back home to Kendal, smiling.
Knowing I’d found some much needed inspiration from this year’s Dirty Double, Lakeland Trails working it’s magic once again.
A couple of days ago, I saw a photo on Facebook that brought back a few memories, as well as a smile to myself. A red-haired bloke grinning like a Cheshire cat, being presented with a piece of paper by none other than ultra running supremo Beth Pascall, in heels.
Jamie with Beth Pascal
It wasn’t just any bit of paper though. This was a hard-earned certificate, proving that Jamie Rennie had completed the Bob Graham Round in under 24 hours and was now officially in the BG Club. Beth herself smashed the women’s BG Round record, her time one of the fastest ever, male or female. I guess she ran in studs.
Jamie’s BG certificate
So, I thought I’d ask Jamie a favour. Pen a couple of lines about me helping him with a bit of coaching advice. The idea being to put it on my website somewhere. I like being a bit of a ‘background figure’ with my coaching, although it’s something I’m enjoying doing more of.
When Jamie got back in touch with his reply, I was both humbled and touched by the words he wrote for me. Certainly it’s not just a line or two.
It’s a story in itself. One that may inspire others.
Maybe someone like you?
These are the words Jamie sent me:
“I’m 51 this year and have been running since I was 29. Before that, I played a lot of team sports, but my longest run had been once around the local park where I lived in Leicester – about 2 flat kilometres – and it knackered me!
Jamie training for the Bob with son Charlie
I first tried running properly when my brother decided to lose some weight and get fit back in 1999. I plodded around with him for a few months and gradually got a bit fitter. We entered a couple of road races and really enjoyed them. By 2005 we had graduated from joggers to runners and were looking for a new challenge.
Jamie’s family, Team Rennie, on the summit of Seat Sandal during a training run
The following year we entered the OMM (Original Mountain Marathon) for the first time. Being from Leicester, the highest hill we’d run up was the local high point, Bradgate Park, around 250m above sea level. Not great prep for a mountain marathon!
Recce run on Leg 3 with Charlie, nearing Pike O Stickle
To compensate for this I read Richard Askwith’s new book – Feet in the Clouds, which had been shortlisted for Sports Book of the Year. Suddenly, a new world opened up to me! That book first introduced me to the Ultimate Running Challenge – The Bob Graham Round. Just like Richard Askwith, as soon as I read about the BGR, I knew I wanted to do it.
Jamie setting off on his Bob Graham Round, with young WCOC orienteers for company
What followed was a journey into the joys of mountain running that lasted for 10 years. But during that time, despite running each individual leg of the BG several times, and taking part in numerous Mountain Marathons and fell races, I never truly believed that I could do the Bob Graham. It just seemed too big of a challenge, one that would forever stay as a dream rather than reality. In 2016 I got into orienteering, and the BG dream was put to bed.
Early light of dawn during Jamie’s Bob Graham Round
Then, in early 2020, Covid-19 appeared, and all competitive sport was postponed. Luckily, in 2017, my family and I had made the decision to move from Leicester to Cockermouth, so when the pandemic struck we were living on the Lake District’s doorstep. With no orienteering available, I decided to resume my love of mountain running.
Sunrise on High Raise
At the same time, my son Charlie – a promising young orienteer – was being coached by Graham Patten. Graham and I spoke regularly about Charlie’s coaching, but we also talked about my running, and it was during one of these informal chats that he persuaded me to have another look at the BGR.
Jamie digging in on the Langdale Pikes
Graham convinced me that not only was it possible for me to do the Bob Graham, it was also highly likely that I would succeed, and have a great time along the way, both during the training and on the attempt itself. He agreed to write me a training programme in late 2020, with a view to making an attempt on the round in Spring 2021.
The make or break Leg 3 – Jamie finding out what he’s made of
What followed was exactly what Graham had convinced me would happen. A series of specific training runs (some of which Graham accompanied me on himself), weekly zoom calls, advice and coaching tips that not only were highly enjoyable, also gave me the belief that a successful attempt was likely. Something that I never thought would have been possible a few months before.
Jamie descending into Wasdale at the end of Leg 3
Graham’s experience and knowledge of the BGR, long distance running and elite running in general is comprehensive. Training had gone perfectly and we began to think about possible dates for an attempt. In late March, with the programme Graham had designed almost completely fulfilled, we noticed a weather window. The date was set, pacers and supporters organised, and final preparations began.
Leaving Wasdale NT car park, just get up Yewbarrow and you’ll make it!
On the night of April 16th 2021, me and three pacers set out from the Moot Hall at 8pm, cheered on by Graham and a few family members. Conditions were perfect. By Dunmail raise I was just about keeping to the schedule. I met Graham, who was pacing Leg 3 for me, and we set off up Steel Fell at 4.30am. Leg 3 is the most difficult of the BG, and it’s where many attempts fail.
Only 3 summits left – Jamie leaving Honister Pass for the glory leg
Graham’s encouragement and friendly banter throughout Leg 3 made sure I got to Wasdale with the attempt still in good shape. He gave me the belief that if I could get myself up the next hill, Yewbarrow, then I would get back to the Moot Hall in Keswick within 24 hours of leaving there.
Finishing the Bob – now who’d have thought?
And so it proved to be. At 7.15pm, me and a hoard of supporters ran into Keswick to be greeted by friends, family, and of course Graham. There at the start, middle and end of my BG. His advice, coaching, encouragement and friendship were invaluable in my completion of the round. The dream had finally become a reality.”
Jamie Rennie, WCOC
A well-earned pint, the Bob Graham Round completed – never in doubt!
Thanks Jamie, for letting me be a part of your adventure, a really good day out on the fells. Thanks also to everyone involved, especially Jamie’s wife Helen, who had the hardest job of all keeping the show on the road.
Living in the Lake District, I am lucky enough to be able to run from the back door of my house in Kendal and in just a few minutes be on limestone hills with panoramic views of the fells.
I want to share some of this Lakeland inspiration with you, gathering together twelve of my favourite photo memories taken whilst running over the mountains in last few years. There is one photo for each month of the year, with the story behind it too linked up too. I hope you enjoy them.
Fingers crossed, the national Lockdown will soon be lifted. Then everyone will be able to come and enjoy this beautiful part of the world too.
Just thinking about Pete Hartley brings a warm glow deep inside and makes me smile to myself. Despite all the current world troubles and freezing cold winter weather.
What a lovely man.
On the Garburn Trail – photo Pete Hartley
Memories come flooding back as I’m looking through all the photos Pete gave me from the early days of the Lakeland Trails. From 2005 through to 2012, Pete regularly came up to the Lake District capturing the true essence of the events.
On the Derwentwater Trail – photo Pete Hartley
He really did understand the ethos of what I was trying to achieve. His iconic, picturesque images catapulted the Lakeland Trails into people’s imagination, directly contributing to the events becoming so successful. With Pete’s dramatic photos, normal everyday people could picture themselves running in the stunning Lake District landscape. Maybe you were one of them?
On the Marathon Trail – photo Pete Hartley
He tirelessly helped me behind the scenes, sending his images to National magazines and newspapers, always letting me know with his infectious enthusiasm and positivity.
On the Derwentwater Trail – photo Pete Hartley
“Runnersworld asked for a good shot from the Garburn Trail” he’d tell me on the phone. ”Their readers just voted it ‘the most scenic race in Britain’, so I’ve emailed one for you, I’m sure you’ll like it”
“The most scenic race in Britain” – on the Garburn Trail – photo Pete Hartley
When Pete first came to photograph the events, he was working for an outdoor website. He needed to sell quite a few of his photos direct to our runners, just to cover his travel expenses. This seemed a complete nonsense to me.
On the Kentmere Trail – photo Pete Hartley
Instead, I came up with a much better plan. Simply cut out the middle man and pay Pete myself for a proper day’s professional sports photography. We could then give the photos away digitally to anyone that wanted them. It was one of those win, win, win moments. Everyone benefited. Our competitors could download free photos via Facebook, Pete was paid properly for his work and we got some amazing images. This soon became standard practice with almost every mass participation event since. Yet we are proud to say we were the first!
At the Derwentwater Trail – photo Pete Hartley
Through the eye of a lens
Pete’s work still lives on in the Lakeland Trails through our current photographer, James Kirby. For a number of years, both would be working at our events, Pete quietly taking James under his wing. It’s fantastic to see many of the locations James still uses today are ones Pete originally highlighted. Capturing runners in their element was a real skill of Pete’s and he willingly passed on all his experience to James. A true teacher.
On the Marathon Trail – photo Pete Hartley
It was fitting that James came along to help me at Pete’s funeral, taking photos, helping with our gazebos, outdoor PA and speakers. The church was packed and hundreds more were crowded outside.
Pete’s funeral – photo James Kirby
In the pub afterwards, everyone had a story about Pete. Smiles all round. Tears of joy through knowing him. Pete brought something special to all of our lives.
Through the eye of a lens – A tribute to Pete Hartley
Just before Christmas, a new hard cover book was published, featuring Pete’s stunning photographic work. It’s been a labour of love for Pete’s partner Denise Park, as he left behind over sixty thousand images.
Pete Hartley and Denise Park – photo Pete Hartley
“Through the eye of a lens” is a fond tribute to someone who was liked and loved by so many in the running world, me included. The book is full of beautiful images, stunning scenery, total mountain and trail running inspiration. If you want a copy, you can order one here
Six years have passed since Pete lost his battle with cancer back in November 2014. I remember writing some words in his memory at the time and thought I’d share them once again here:
The Magic of Pete Hartley
It’s early evening and I’m sitting at home in front of the wood burner, plugging in the laptop for a quick check on the internet. Suddenly I’m stunned. Shocked. I read Denise’s post on Facebook, that Pete Hartley has died from cancer.
I didn’t even know Pete was so ill. I must admit, I didn’t know Denise and Pete were so close.
Like many others, I’d been enjoying the quiz Pete had been posting on Facebook, guessing the runners and races. His photographs brought back so many long forgotten memories of all those people that have been part of my running life. I’d also seen Facebook images of Pete and Denise travelling around, enjoying themselves. I naively assumed they must have just got together and were spending some quality time with each other – good on them, I thought. I was at Edisford Primary School in Clitheroe with Denise, and we even share the same birthday. Knowing them both for so long and then hearing this sad news completely out of the blue, stopped me in my tracks
Pete Hartley. Pete Hartley …
I first met Pete when I was a young lad at local orienteering and fell races in and around my home in the Ribble Valley. He was always friendly, he always had time to chat and encourage. It was Pete’s images of the fell running greats that helped inspire me to take running more seriously. Imagine being on the cover of the Fellrunner one day? Although I never did make that honour!
Time goes on and throughout the next two decades, I’d often bump into Pete at fell and mountain races, with his camera and ready smile. He never changed. Always friendly, always time to chat.
Over the last decade, we met each other much more regularly – he was my first choice photographer at the Lakeland Trails events. That’s when I realised how hard Pete worked to capture those unique and iconic running images. Pete always arrived a day or two before an event, having first spoken at length on the phone about the course, who the favourites were, discussing who we thought would win. His enthusiasm for everything to do with running seemed boundless. Then he’d set off around the courses, checking the backdrops, checking the light, re-checking start times, calculating the best places to be throughout the day. A true professional.
It didn’t just stop there though. After going around the course, he’d help us in any way he could. I vividly remember our very first event in Keswick in 2006. The day before the event it was bucketing down. Pete abandoned his course check and helped us assemble the marquees and run in, smiling and chatting to everyone, all day long, in the pouring rain. He decided he was going to join me and Claire camping in the marquee. We couldn’t afford security in those days, so had to do it ourselves. In the evening, we brought fish and chips back with us to the marquee, and in the fading light, watched the downpour from the shelter of the tent, still chatting and laughing. Pete held up a chip and said “magic fish and chips, these!”
Last Sunday evening I went out for a walk on the limestone scars above my home in Kendal, and thought about Pete, about what made him such a special person for me and countless others. I know he would have enjoyed the spectacular sunset with the Lakeland fells in silhouette. I thought about the strength of his personality, how he dealt with his own struggles after the car accident cut short his running career. About how he turned to photography, to enable him to continue being a part of the sport he loved the most. And the photographs themselves, what they meant to so many people. I thought about his recent battle with cancer, how he just got on with it, keeping it all to himself. His partner Denise too, I thought about what she must be going through.
The one word I kept coming back to was “magic”, and I realised that was a big part of Pete’s special gift. He could see the magic that surrounds us all, the magic in people, in wild places, in the simplest of things. Yet he could do even more than that. He could capture that magic moment forever in his photographs for us all to see the world through his own eyes.
It was dark by the time I got home, and whilst my little boy Ash was playing with his Lego, feeling sad, I turned on the laptop.
I read this, from Pete’s son Michael :
“My sister Claire and I grew up assuming that it was everybody’s Dad who climbed the Matterhorn, ran the London Marathon, cycled across deserts, took them canoeing down rapids and was the master of fancy dress. As we got older, we realised how lucky we were to have such an inspiring, supportive and loving Dad. His optimism and enthusiasm for life inspired nothing but kindness.
Yesterday, our Dad’s fight against cancer came to an end. Our heads are full of happy memories which will last forever, so please don’t be sad for us. He’s just off on his next big adventure…”
Reading those words made me feel so much better and I can think about the pleasure he brought to me and be reminded of him forever through his photographs.
I can remember Pete’s big smile and think of him, off on his next big adventure.
Sunset at Pete’s funeral – photo James Kirby
10th January 2021
Sign up to my blog and have a chance to win a copy of “Through The Eye Of A Lens”– A tribute to Pete Hartley. We’ll be making a draw on 15th January 2021 and two lucky subscribers will win one of these beautiful books.