LE JOG

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Resting tomorrow ...

Thank goodness! At this rate LR, you'll be in John o' Groats by Easter. How many kms per week are you running at the moment? Great effort!

[ladyrunner]

Probably 50-65 km a week on the build up to the Brighton Marathon if I am healthy and stay cold free. After the marathon it will probably be 30-40 km.

I promise I won't get to John O'Groats until the end of December. Got lots of places to visit first MLCM .

[Sweder]

Oh I do like this idea
Will have to look into possibility of making that particular race. Reason being I intend to bobble along through Snowdonia on LE JOG, rather a long way to go to complete a section in real time.

[ladyrunner]

Reason being I intend to bobble along through Snowdonia on LE JOG, rather a long way to go to complete a section in real time.

It sounds like we could be meeting up along the way then as I am also heading to Snowdonia .... no idea how long it is going to take me to get there though

[ladyrunner]

A five mile section of LE JOG covered today. Not the easiest of runs with it being bitterly cold and also having deep snow to contend with.

Started off running along the A394 heading towards Truro.

Then decided to take a detour through some country lanes heading for a village called Lower Treculliacks. This was where the fun began. There were sections where the snow was so deep that I was almost hopping from foot to foot to get through it. Photo here of my legs in the snow.

   

Tricky, exhausting running even at a very slow pace!!

After 3 miles of effort I made it back onto the grey slush of the A394. Much easier on the legs and heart, but not on the eyes

Suffered over the last half mile with terribly frozen hands from the wind chill - my fingers were really starting to hurt and go stiff.

Back in the warm again now, and fed and watered so feeling happy

Ladyrunner's map updated.

[Sweder]

Time to leave Portreath after falling down shamefully during tonight's excellent quiz. Rocket Ronnie bestrode the mezanine, microphone in hand, belting out the questions in a suspiciously South London accent. Despite my abstinence I failed miserably in the local knowledge section and scored nil on the picture round which featured mug shots of infamous Truro dignitaries through the ages. I left with cruel laughter ringing in my ears, hurridly strapping on my back-pack and shuffling off along the starlit, frosted pavement towards Bridge Moor.

I left the main road to take in some of the rural scenes, albethey moonlit under a crisp clear night sky, around Leity Moor and Chapel Hill and on into the village of Mawla. I rested in the village square, scanning the public notices as I slurped from my flask of hot chocolate. I was confused to learn that although the beach dog ban was back in force there was a call for local stores to stock 'doggie bags'. Of more interest was this lithograph of the village offered by local artist Rigby Graham:



I'd have tarried a while longer, but time was pressing and the cold was starting to nip at my sore flesh. I had to make Mount Hawke before midnight. Jan Dawson & her husband Ron had assured me of a bed for the night at the charming Old School Public House provided I arrived before the Witching hour. Apparently Ron's beloved pet, Fluffy the Irish Wolfhound, takes exception to being disturbed after that time. Much as I love dogs having seen this picture of Ron and Fluffy 'playing around' I decided it might be best to arrive promptly.



The Old School Public House, a unique village inn, was once the local Elementary school. Built in 1874 for the Falmouth Board on land donated by Lord Falmouth, when education became compulsory, it catered for children between the ages of five and fourteen. Closed in 1938/39 owing to a lack of pupils the building was re-opened in 1941 to house WWII evacuees. Following the 1945 Education Act The Old School became a Primary School for children between the ages of five and eleven and continued as such until 1986 when a modern facility was built across the road.



The Old School was renovated and re-opened as a pub in 1988 by Ron and Jan. They have a fine reputation for serving excellent real ale; spending a day and a night with them (and Fluffy) will surely test my temperence to the max.

[El Gordo]

Limped into Crowlas, intent on the medical check my agent should have treated me to before I set off on this godforsaken errand to the wilds of Caithness. However, I discover that there is no doctor's surgery in Crowlas. The good Reverend Wade,from the (wait for it) "Parish Church of Ludgvan dedicated to St Ludgvan and St Paul" pointed me towards Penzance, but I decided to soldier on towards Cockwells, where a decent pint awaits me at... ooh dear, no pubs in Cockwells. I had misread the excellent pub reviews of this fellow, Happy Moose:


whose faulty geography had led me on a wild... moose chase to the wrong village.

Feverish disgruntlement created some splendid crunchy tracks through the deep, virgin snow, past Whitecross, and at last, into Canonstown, where the roaring fire at the Lamb and Flag gave me the sort of welcome I felt my brief, but taxing, 3.5 icy miles merited.

As I supped a pint of Tribute and tortured myself with the glorious aromas of the, by all accounts, exceptional home cooking, I sadly noted that had this been tomorrow night, I could have stayed to take part in the "easy listening karaoke". Wishing the agreeable locals Roger and Vivien good luck in the area final of the highly esteemed Sportsbrain of Cornwall contest, and feeling suitably refreshed, I bade the jovial landlord farewell, and was on my way once more.

[marathondan]

Left the mighty metropolis of Penzance and headed out into the lanes for a brief sortie through the snow. I made it as far as Goldsithney, but then had to stop and try out both the Trevelyn Arms and The Crown, just for research purposes. I had a damn nice pint in the former, although its name now escapes me, and a good pint of St Austell's in the latter. I also considered asking for one of Heather's Specials at the back of the pub, but was a bit too embarrassed to ask what that meant.

As a certified tarmac-hound I'm following the B3280, to see what the villages along the way have to offer. Rehydration options should certainly be plentiful.

[Sweder]

I bade farewell to Ron and Jan (I could hear Fluffy somewhere deep in the cellar, chewing loudly on something crunchy) before setting off along the B3277 towards St. Agnes. I'd originally planned to spend a night at the lovely Yellow House in Goonown. This charming B&B, built in 1885, served as Goonown's lone shoe shop for some 90 years before its conversion to a traveller's rest. The recent proprieter had carved a reputation for serving high quality vegetarian fare, yet sadly at some time last year something went awry and the property is closed to borders until further notice. I was lucky enough to view what I might have enjoyed, snapping this shot of the enticing breakfast room:



With a heavy sigh I skirted St. Agnes proper. I'd have taken a closer look, especially at the fabled tin mines along the Trevaunance Trail but was put off by the town's idle boast (boldly displayed in the opening lines of it's website) of links with the wonderful TV series Poldark. Anyone worth his salt knows that Poldark was predominantly shot in and around Lostwitheal and Liskeard, with coastal scenes filmed in the delightfully-named port town of Mousehole (pronounced Mowzol), located on the opposite coast just outside Penzance. This unpardonable calumny left me no option but to wheel away in the direction of honest, veracious Perranporth and beyond to the charming haven that is Holywell bay.

[ladyrunner]

Trekked on today and yesterday covering 16.5 miles of cold and snowy A roads around Cornwall. Am heading for St Austrell where hopefully I may catch a glimse of Sweder who is just north of me.

Finished in the village of Probus, which is most famous for having the tallest church tower in Cornwall.

Got a room tonight at the Hawkins Arms, and am off downstairs now to sit and relax infront of the open fire whilst I try the homemade food and their fine ales from St Austell Brewery.


More to come on Tuesday,
Julie

[stillwaddler]

How have I completley missed this thread??? Might even sign myself up, have a distinct urge to start at the other end 'though :-)

[Sweder]

How have I completley missed this thread??? Might even sign myself up, have a distinct urge to start at the other end 'though :-)

Nice one SW; presumably as it's all down hill?

[Nigel]

Thursday 07.11.2010 -- very snowy. Headed east along the seafront at Penzance, through the eponymous Long Rock and on to Marazion for a spectacular view of St Michael's Mount. 5.9 miles.

Saturday 09.11.2010 -- the snow was lying deep and crisp and even. A good day for a tough run. Heading east into a bitterly cold wind to view the seafront at the pretty harbour of Porthleven. Had to take a short defrosting break in the cafe for a hot coffee, and managed to find a small box of fig rolls to sustain me on the uphill slog back north out of the village. Overnight in Helston -- home of the famous Floral Dance for those who remember their Cornish brass band hits of the 70s. 8.92 miles

Sunday 10.11.2010 -- legs feeling pretty crocked today. Snow started to melt briefly and after shovelling snow all morning from the school playground there wasn't much motivation left. Had hoped to make it to Falmouth for an overnight at the Green Bank Hotel, but finally decided to pitch my bivvy by the roadside still a couple of miles short of the town. Pubs within happy walking distance from here, but no running since. I'll hope to pick it up later in the week. 6.48 miles.

Distance run so far: 34.03 miles.

Lager league results (puritans and real ale drinkers, look away now)
Fish and chips 1, Carlsberg 2
Chicken rogon josh 1, Corona 3
Ravioli 1, Peroni 1 (going to replay)
Amstel 2, Salted Peanuts 1

Carbohydrate division -- Festive Qualifiers
Christmas cake 1 (Marzipan, 45 pen) Stollen 2 (Slices 4, Alltherestofit 90)
Cadbury 3, Roses 0 (Dairy Milk hat-trick).


http://www.mapmyrun.com/route/gb/Lands%2...2222564393

[Nigel]

Tuesday 12.01.2009. 4.11 miles. Pushed for time and energy today, so didn't quite reach the Green Bank Hotel in Falmouth as intended. Stopped off for a swift couple in a sailor's pub in town instead -- well-earned after some exhausting high-stepping in the snow.

Not every run is a cracker. Not every run is long. Sometimes it feels like an achievement just to get out there.

January miles: 38.14
2010 miles 38.14

http://www.mapmyrun.com/route/gb/Lands%2...2222564393

(Settings changed so routemap should now be visible).

[Sweder]

Bah! I sat and wrote my latest diary entry in the snug at the delightful Traveller's Rest in Trevarrian, once again restricting myself to a soft drink. Sadly the lumbering Hagrid character squeezed in alongside me was in fullsome praise of the St. Austell Brewerys' fine ales, so much so that he managed to send his pewter tankard skyward, ricocheting off the oak beam above us to spin its foamy contents all over my parchments.

Suffice to say the chap was effusive in his apology and not a little miffed that I decined his kindly-offered pint of Old Bastard. I explained the reasons for my abstinence but this left him more puzzled than satisfied. He scratched his great woolly scalp, surveying my modest paunch before gazing down upon his own vast belly. I'm not sure the conept of weight-loss cuts much ice in these parts.

I'd arrived here via Trevarrian Hill, leading up from the coastal Watergate Road. This thoroughfare runs parallel to the roaring ocean and I was lucky enough to observe local sportsfolk at play as I ran.



The ocean fair tore in, driven by the bitter wintry blow. Mad men wrapped in wetsuits lashed their feet to flimsy boards before wrapping their arms in harness beneath monstrous kites to dance and race in the crushing foam. This brought to mind my own thrilling experience under a Giant Wing some years ago on the beaches of Dorset's Ringstead Bay. Sadly there's no time to relay that short yet for some reason hilarious tale now; I must away north, heading through Mawgan Porth to Tranance and my lodgings at Magic Cove. The winter storms have ensured the welcome will live up to the name; I just hope that my convivial hosts Lesley and Brian have thought to fire up the wood burner to help me thaw out.

[Seafront Plodder]

This brought to mind my own thrilling experience under my own Giant Wing some years ago on the beaches of Dorset's Ringstead Bay. Sadly there's no time to relay that short yet for some reason hilarious tale now

I was in tears of laughter when Sweder relayed that story. Save it for Molly's after about 4 hours.

[ladyrunner]

Have had a busy day today both running and doing my tourist bit.

Set off from Probus early heading towards St Austrell. Was planning to run for 12 miles so I wasn't too sure if I was going to make it to the town centre. Anyway, much to my delight I hit the St Austrell Brewery at just 8.5 miles into my run.


Decided to stop off and I managed to book myself on to a Brewery tour. Before leaving I stopped by the visitors shop to buy a case of bottled Tribute to take on my way.

I got talking to Gill the cashier in the shop and she mentioned the local Eden Project. Got some brief directions off her and decided to carry on and try and make my way there for a visit before I head on off to my next destination (which is still undecided).

I wiggled through the side streets and just kept heading north east like I had been told. Twenty minutes later, running through the countryside, I got to a signpost 'Eden Project 1 mile'. I had made it with 1.5 miles to spare.

When I arrived I paid my money and started my second tour of the day looking round the world's largest greenhouses housing plants from around the world. And it was lovely to be in the warmth of the tropical and meditteranean environments with warm fingers and feet again.

Think I might rest my newly formed bungions now until the snow has disappeared - my feet are tired and I've got a touch of Plantar Fasciitus in my left heel. That will give me a couple of days to plan my route and enjoy my Tribute .

[Sweder]

my feet are tired and I've got a touch of Plantar Fasciitus in my left heel. That will give me a couple of days to plan my route and enjoy my Tribute .

PF eh? You have my sympathies; did for a good chunk of my 2009 campaign that did
Enjoy your Tribute and think of me. This Ginger & Lemongrass cordial is all very tasty but ...

[Sweder]

Tired legs this week; probably pushed on too soon. Whatever the reason I only managed a handful of miles up the north Cornwall coast before I decided to seek shelter once more. What a terrific place I've found to hang about for a day or two; The Harlyn Inn.



Not only is this perfectly situated on the edge of a fine sandy beach, the surrounding area is lush with hiking opportunities. Over the next day or so I'll explore Booby Bay, Constantine Bay and the delights of St. Merryn before moving on for an even longer rest in Padstow where I intend to tickle my more discerning tastebuds. This coastline is superb. Crawling with sportsters in all weathers there's plenty to watch as I hug a mug of deliciously creamy cocoa. Definitely need to get back here in the summer, though I suppose it'll be swarming with Grockles by then.

[El Gordo]

After an indolent few days, I ventured off into the snowy landscape once more.

I had intended spending a while in the enchanting St Erth, sampling Jim's bread and Kathy's pasties before a pint at the Star, but I was somewhat shocked to learn that 7 crimes had been reported during December, including 3 alleged cases of possession of cannabis, so I decided to press on, rather than spend a moment too long in this hotbed of crime and social disintegration.

A mile or so endured on the A30 -- a bigger road than ideal, but I had no choice -- before branching off onto the B3302 toward the intriguingly named village of Leedstown. However, before reaching my target, disaster struck. The old war injury, the dodgy left calf acquired in the great Boston campaign of 2009, flared up again, and I knew I'd have to curtail my jaunt. Instead, I limped into the tiny village of Fraddam. I was desperately keen to see the welcoming glow of a saloon bar in Fraddam, but tragically, could find no sign of any commercial establishment whatever.

Cursing my luck, I dragged my knackered limb into a derelict barn, and made a bed for myself among the flea-ridden bales of hay, from where I post this message under the pale Cornish moonlight.

An icy blast is freezing my heart, and I am growing weaker by the hour. I hope to be able to rejoin the human race before I expire, but I am not sure I will make it. But hay, I have at least met a splendid old nag with whom, in this bale-ful environment, I am building a stable relationship.

Farewell friends. I hope to survive these travails, and to resume contact with the world beyond, before too long.