Part 1 – The Prep
At this time of the year I’m generally looking for a marathon, often the Area of Natural Beauty North Devon marathon (because it’s awesome). However, somehow I forgot to book it and now it’s all sold out. Boo! Not to be put out, I spent an hour or so mapping out the route for an ultra marathon heading out towards Ilfracombe.
Whenever I’ve visited Ilfracombe, I’ve been envious of the ant-sized hikers walking the massive craggy hills heading East towards Lynton. And so I decided to come up with a route along the brilliant South West Coast path to see as much of it as I can in a day (whilst giving me time to get back too).
I reasoned that 40 miles is probably the most I should be doing. It was likely to either be a very exposed day to the sun, the rain, the wind, or all of it, so I needed to have options to curtail the run or point blank stop if needed. Fortunately the route takes me through a number of small villages where I can stock up on water, snacks, and ice creams as needed. There are also bus and taxi services too, should the need to get back sooner warrant sharing the stench of a hot or cold days sweaty work with others.
So the route is easy. Accommodation is easy too. I booked a ‘Silver’ caravan at Twichen House holiday park. It’s basic, but it comes with a bed, a cooker, and a fridge freezer. That means I can stock up on food and drinks, and when I get back I won’t need to go out looking for it. You can upgrade to get hot tubs, guaranteed parking, and early check in, etc. And I could have opted for a hotel, as there are plenty around, and I even looked at glamping too, but Twichen House is easy to get to, it’s a known standard (stayed there a few times), and there’s a nice trail right out of the park heading towards Mortehoe and the South West Coast path beyond. Perfect.
I then planned a few stops along the way and familiarised myself with them on Google Maps. Knowing where shops and toilets are, opening times, etc, all makes the day that bit smoother. I also mentally ‘ran’ the route a few times to remember any awkward spots. There are certainly a few roads to run up and down, but nothing considerable.
I then loaded the route to Garmin and I was mostly ready.
Running kit is easy. The less you bring the better your running will be. So it’s shorts, a vest, a cap, nice comfy running socks, and good trail trainers. A light running pack, a few soft bottles, and then a warmer top and waterproof stashed for if they’re needed. A phone, some money (actual cash), and a small medkit rounds out the kit selection. Before the run I’ll be rubbing myself up in sun cream and then applying a generous helping of vaseline down there. And with that, I’d be ready to head out.
I have consoled with myself that if it was simply pouring it down with rain on the big day then I’d not bother with the ultra. Why put myself through a long slog, when part of the motivation to do this were the views of the coastline and enjoy the sun? No thank you! So, if it’s wet, cloudy, and plain miserable, I’d rather be warm and miserable in the caravan instead.
Part 2 – The route
It couldn’t be any easier. Run to the South West Coast path, take a right, and carry on until you come off the path to visit Heddon’s mouth beach. Then turn around and run the same route back. Having a Garmin watch tell me what turns to take and when I’ve gone off course removes any fuss or worry from the day.
I’ll add the route to this post in the near future.
I use https://gpx.studio to create and edit my GPX files for my Garmin. It’s a brilliant site that’s dedicated to a single purpose, doesn’t serve adverts (but welcomes donations), and exports the file you need without much fuss. A further review of GPX Studio is here: https://simplyseanie.com/2025/03/13/quickly-create-or-edit-gpx-files-with-free-gpx-studio/
Part 3 – The Run
Well, that was brutal. Utterly brutal.
To quote Blackadder: “Well it started badly, it tailed off a little in the middle and the less said about the end the better! But apart from that, excellent!“
I didn’t complete the full 66km. I did 54. I finished at a restaurant and scoffed a spaghetti Bolognese, a side portion of chips and a pint of coke. If the taxi I’d ordered had been a little longer I’d have had another coke for sure and eyed up the desserts. I was famished and getting to the point of being dangerously exhausted. The food perked me up no end, but I’d accepted that I’d retired for the day and spent the ludicrously fast taxi drive back to the holiday park pondering where it all went wrong.
And I tell you where it went wrong, it was me. All me. I didn’t consider just how hard the trails and hills were. I was ignorant of just how humid it was going to be. And multiple times I didn’t confirm what I had on me before setting off from a stop. It wasn’t a disaster, but if I’d been a little more switched on I might have finished the 66km.
Let me bullet point some thoughts just to get this out, so hopefully you can enjoy my suffering, point out where I was an idiot (and lucky), and maybe learn a little something along the way.
Where it all went wrong
- Within the first 2km my route sent me running down a bog to soak my feet for the rest of the day
- The heavy sea mist filled the surprisingly large number of woods with excess moisture and the humidity was thick and heavy
- I drank well, but left from Combe Martin along the hardest and most exposed section with only 100ml of water
- I didn’t eat enough through the day
- When I needed energy the most, I presumed I’d eaten all my food (I hadn’t)
- I relied on a food stop, but didn’t check that it was open (there was a wedding on)
- I was lucky that there was a café near by, but I didn’t take the opportunity to load up on carbs
- There were just so many more massive hills than I expected
I can’t blame anyone. And I really should have known better. I often wonder why experienced runners are caught out in trying conditions, and now I know why. Apathy. “It will be alright“, “I’ve done stuff like this loads of times before and it all worked out just fine“. What an idiot. So lesson (re)learned and I will keep this memory of such a hard day front and centre when packing for my next adventure.
National Trust cafes are in a temporal universe of their own
For the half way point, I was somewhat lucky. I’ve just found out the place I’ve been running / staggering to for the past 8 miles of hilly-valley-madness was in fact closed for a wedding. Fortunately, I met the owner coming back in from a dog walk and they pointed me to a café just around the corner. What relief. With a face of beetroot and sweat pouring out of me, I entered the National Trust café. I grabbed a Pepsi, joined the queue, and then entered the twilight zone where the passing of time is immaterial and irrelevant. Glaciers have conquered mountains faster than customers can make up their minds and oceans have boiled dry whilst baristas work to meet their fancies. I had to crack open the Pepsi before I paid for it (to my British horror) partly to stop myself passing out, but also as a loud riposte to the meandering decision making and procedural serving that threatened my sanity. I could have throttled the man ahead of me counting with his finger and then ruminating over the selection of ice cream flavours.
Fortunately the gentlemen serving was both charming and delightful and once served I made off with 2 cans of Pepsi and a delicious ice cream. I was also able to top up water bottles before heading back. So all in all a win.
Getting back
The route back was of course the same coming in. From Heddon Mouth the route out of the valley is steep and slow. Naturally humid from the wind blowing the sea spray into the woods I was already feeling the regret that I should have had more water on the valley floor. Fortunately, there’s a stunning path on the very edge of the cliff that meets the sea breeze fully and refreshed me instantly. So it’s not all hurt and suffering and guile and woe. Honest.
I soon forgot that valley and headed on. But the number of valleys never seemed to end. I’d see one in the distance, get to it, run down it, cross the stream at the bottom, run up the other side, and repeat. I never seemed to be getting closer to what I was sure was just around the next valley or cliff edge. On the way out I was enjoying the splendid views, taking photos, and relishing the visceral and hearty challenge. The way back was bitter. It wasn’t yet grim, but years of ultra running had given me the mental tools needed to march on come what may. The book title, Relentless Forward Progress, by Bryon Powell, repeating in my mind as I would come to a natural stop on an incline or awkward turn. It was motivation and reminder to me that I can keep running and that I don’t need to stay stopped.
Making a good decision
And then things got a little worse. I came into Hele Bay, and I was done. I made another mistake in not stopping at a garage to get some food in and just soldiered on. The hill out of Hele Bay into Ilfracombe took it all. It’s a beast of a final hill. Steep, wooded (humid!), with no visible sign of progress towards the top. I think it took 20 minutes to cover 1km. I was rewarded with the sight of Ilfracombe as I came out the other side, but I’d made the decision in my head. I was in no fit state to carry on for another 12km or maybe more. I was now becoming a risk to myself, and then by extension of where I was, to others as well.
The South West Coast Path came to a T junction and headed right on through Ilfracombe and up its steep boundary hills and off out towards further hills, valleys, and streams. It was here the decision was cemented. Instead, I carried straight on down a path I suspected was leading to a restaurant I’d visited only a few weeks before. I stopped the watch, entered the bar, asked for a taxi, and then ordered that hearty meal. I wasn’t sad or feeling defeated. I actually felt great. I’d had an adventure, I was alive, and I’d worked hard for it. Overall, what a great day out. I’m already itching to go back and try again.
Simply Seanie 