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TeaHis first moment of doubt came quickly. I was about 15km in, finding myself heading up the steep slope towards the High Street, the old Roman road that runs through the eastern part of the Lake District. The sun had disappeared. In its place: clouds, wind, and a sharp drop in temperature that caught me off guard. I pulled my sleeves over my fingers and clenched my teeth. My gloves, naturally, were buried under my pack.
this was 5 Valleys Ultra – A 55km point-to-point trail race that is part of the wider 13 Valleys series. Purnahuti is also included 21 km short routePlus 110km and 180km versions truly immovableThe course starts in Patterdale and ends in Kendal, climbing over 2,200 meters along the way. I didn’t bring trekking poles. That already felt like a bad decision.,
The race started sunny, with that false euphoric optimism you get before the going gets too tough. Everyone was looking energetic. The playlists were fresh. There was still foil on the gel. But by the time we reached the ridgeline above Hayeswater, the mood had changed. A strong wind blew in, knocking us over the edge, and conversation slowed as everyone put their heads down and went inside.
As we climbed the summit and I finally took off those elusive gloves, the trail sank and rolled into the mist. What followed was a fast, technical descent – springy underfoot, with enough visibility to keep an eye on the pink ultra flags posted every 50 meters or so. Suddenly it became fun. Really fun. It’s enough to make me forget about the fun of the last hour.
Terrain-wise, it was constantly changing – in a good way. Scrambles turned into passable singletrack, which then threw you into more climbing just when you thought you’d earned the break. The second major climb, Glenridding, was followed by another long descent. This was the hardest and most technical start requiring equal amounts of concentration and cardio.
Partial-salvation came in the form of a runner from Derry who, upon seeing the Irish flag on my bib, struck up a conversation about holidays in Waterford. We bonded over shared exhaustion, holding on to the slopes and keeping each other going. It’s not the kind of conversation you expect when you’re doing another climb, but there’s something about the spirit of the event that’s got even a Londoner like me talkative.
The interchange most affected was near Ambleside. A Liverpudlian runner of the same age as me told me he was determined to finish the race so that his young son could complete the race with him. “It would mean everything to him,” he said. “And for me.” Then he went back and together reached the next post.
What stood out – and is worth shouting about – was how well organized the whole thing was. Initially, I raised an eyebrow at the kit list. Waterproof trousers? An emergency bivy bag? Multiple layers? At 6am registration the marshal also checked the lining of my rain jacket. It seemed like too much. But by eight o’clock, with the rain falling sideways and the light rapidly disappearing, everything became clear. The emphasis on safety did not detract from the racing; It underlined it. This meant people could enjoy the adventure without worrying about being stranded somewhere near Grisedale Tarn with a damp t-shirt and some Clif Bar wrappers for warmth.
Feed stations were generous and well spaced, offering reasonable food – hot drinks, rösti – even pizza. It’s not until you’ve run 46km and the finish line is still hours away that you realize how much a Freddo bar can boost your spirits.
Before the race, I spoke to event director Colin Murphy, who explained the inclusive philosophy behind the event.
“We want to celebrate the Lake District – and show people that trail running can be for everyone,” he told me. “The physical and mental health benefits should be accessible to everyone. It shouldn’t be a scary thing. We don’t want to be the event where skinny locals in tiny shorts pay a fiver to fall in and everyone feels intimidated. If you bring yourself and a little enthusiasm, we’ll make the trip as safe and accessible as possible.”
He continued: “In a way, ultra-marathons are liberating. There’s no arbitrary pressure – there’s no four-hour barrier like a road marathon. Nobody asks you, ‘What was your time?’ Later. Nobody cares. People just say, ‘This is amazing.’ If you want to stop and walk, you can. You can take it at your own pace. You can talk to fellow runners, interact, get ideas. It’s not about PB. It’s about the experience.”
That inclusive attitude is reflected in the statistics. “Trail running can be quite a struggle – you expect a lot of drop-outs,” Murphy said. “But last year, 100 percent of runners completed the 2 Valleys route. On the 5 Valleys (55 km), 98 percent of runners completed. We have generous cut-off times, well-stocked food stations, and we mark everything clearly so they can turn around safely. In my mind, whoever turns is equal – whether you complete it in six hours or fifteen.
The race isn’t just about celebrating the landscape – it actively returns to it. Five percent of all entry fees go to the Lake District Foundation, funding the Fix the Fells campaign, which helps maintain the trails for future use. Organizers work closely with national parks, local rangers and Natural England, carrying out environmental impact surveys in sensitive areas to ensure the event runs lightly on the land it passes through.
The last exit into Kendal came in the dark. The rain returned. Head torches have arrived. For the last few miles we ran single file down rocky trails, head torches swaying like the world’s wettest conga line. Then came the city lights, the applause of spectators eating ants outside a hot-looking pub, and finally, the beautiful arch of the finish line.
I crossed the line, barely a sprint finish but a finish nonetheless. And I didn’t fall. Which, up to that point, felt like a moral victory.
At the front of the pack, things were more dramatic. Andorran runner Samu Pons broke the 55km course record in 4:52:15 – more than an hour faster than the previous best. In the women’s race, Amy Dixon also set a new record by clocking 5:59:47. The 7 Valleys (110 km) race was equally steep, with Tom Smith (11:34:56) and Leonie Ansems de Vries (14:44:47) both breaking the record – the latter by more than an hour. And in the main event – a monstrous 13 canyons (180 km) route – Barney Plummer ran a blistering 24:21:44 to take the men’s crown, while Bethany Ladd led the women in 32:56:04.
But honestly, whether you were running for a record or running with your son, it all felt equally valid. There were more than 2,500 runners across all four distances, and for the most part it felt like a shared effort – wet, wild, sometimes ridiculous, but enjoyable.
At some point near the 30km mark, I remember glancing over the edge through the mist and seeing nothing but stunning green waterfalls and slate-gray peaks in the horizon. It was the kind of sight that would make you stop if you were driving – and here we were, knee-deep in it, earning it the hard way.
It’s the same thing with ultrasound. You go in hoping to survive and come out wondering if you can go further. I will come back next year. But next time, I’m bringing poles — and gloves I can actually reach into.