At the beginning of the year, I was looking for an ultra to make a good long run before this year’s West Highland Way Race, and the Moray Coastal 50 looked promising, I was a wee bit concerned with just five weeks between the two races, it might be a wee bit too close for me, but looking at the route, it’s awfy bonnie, isn’t too technical underfoot with no monster climbs, also a generous time limit of 16 hours. Sue was eyeing it up too, so we entered.
After watching Debbie and Kyle’s race briefing a few days before the race, the description of the route didn’t mean anything to me, so I decided to put the GPX file on my watch. I've never done this before but thought it might be useful since I’m not familiar with the area or been on the route before. As much as I’ve had a watch with all the bells and whistles for quite a while, I tend to just press go when I start and stop when I finish, so I suppose it’s good to get the hang of some of the technology available to me, but I don’t have the inclination to find out what all the numbers blurb on the app mean, I’ve been running to feel for thirty-eight years, and I’m not going to let a whippersnapper attached to my wrist tell me how to run! But what I do love about having a clever watch is after a run, being able to look at a map of where I’ve been, then the route makes sense to me.
We had accommodation in Portknockie and arrived early Friday afternoon, in time to have lunch in Cullen (of course it was Cullen Skink! My favourite).
We had a wee walk around the Bow Fiddle Rock and harbour to stretch the legs, and a wee practice of getting the gist of the GPX on my watch, then a chilled out evening, (just one Guinness) before preparing for an early start, a 4.00am alarm, loads of porridge, Ken was happy (or pretended he was) to get up early and drive us to Forres for the 6.00am registration. I tried to keep the faffing to a minimum before a 7.00am start.
It was a misty morning and Windy Wilson promised a roasty toasty day for most of Scotland so hopefully it will burn off soon and we’ll be working on our runners tan.
A lone piper in the mist set the scene for the start of a race. After a few words from Kyle, we were sent on our way.  |
| photo from Stuart Ross |
The first 6-ish miles were on tarmac, Ken was at Findhorn to give us a wave before he headed off for some Cullen Skink and a round of golf at Cullen. Sue and I have done a lot of long runs together and are fairly evenly matched pace wise but during races we tend to do our own thing with no pressure on each other to keep up if one of us is running well, but for this, our plan was to run together just having a grand day out, tourists on the hoof. From Findhorn I felt we were settling into the race, now scampering through dunes, it was lovely to see the piper again.
What a beautiful route, with a meander through forest trails to the first aid station with our drop bags, then on through coastal villages, bonny beaches, cliff top paths with the haar coming and going between the sunshine.
It never got really roasty toasty although my arm warmers came off and my sleeves folded up, with the damp air and a gentle breeze, it was pretty much perfect conditions for running.
It wasn’t too difficult following the route but on occasion it would’ve been nice to have a reassuring race marker. Sue kept the navigation on her watch face, on mine, I had total time and distance, with a wee green arrow pointing the route direction when I held my watch level. It gave us peace of mind that we were heading the right way but with a race where you more or less kept the sea on your left, we shouldn’t get horribly lost. After picking up our second drop bag at Lossiemouth and going over the bridge we were a bit dubious we were going the right way but Roberta, the roving marshal on her bike put our minds at rest,
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| photo from Roberta Walker |
it was a vast beach in the haar and lovely to follow her tyre tracks in the hard packed sand before heading on the section described by Debbie and Kyle during the race briefing as “three miles of hell!” I thought that sounded a bit harsh, but now that I’ve done it I can safely say it wasn’t my favourite bit! The sea has pushed the shingle so high you can’t see the sea, you’re trying to pick the best path through soft sand, shingle and tussocky grass by the side of the war time sea defences, huge concrete blocks and pill boxes. To occupy ourselves we counted the blocks and worked out that there’s around 500 every mile! Eventually we turned inland towards Garmouth and our third drop bag, then onto a recently resurfaced old railway path and across the river on the Spey Viaduct, a fine example of Victiorian engineering.
Once heading back to the coast I remembered I had run this path before! It was a long time ago, in 1999 I made my debut at 50km, running the Speyside Way 50km, held in April finishing at the Spey Bay Hotel (now replaced by houses) and organised by Don Ritchie. I ran the race four times and 2004 was the last time for me, it was held one more time in 2005, I was entered but was a DNS, on the morning of the race while still at home getting my porridge ready, I had a brain haemorrhage, which scuppered a few more races that year but it wasn’t too long until I was back running, seven weeks to be precise, just a gentle saunter round the Skye Half Marathon.
The winding forest path from Spey Bay shows a lot of damage from Storm Arwen in 2021 but it’s still pretty, I think it was somewhere between Portgordon and Buckie we saw a dolphin! Wehay! That put a spring in our step! Sue and I were still tootling along nicely, just as well, there were a few wee cheeky climbs especially the one out of Findochty, short and sharp, but once up, a bonnie undulating scamper along to Portknockie and past the Bow Fiddle Rock, then I’m glad my legs were in fine fettle for the steps down to the beach and to the finish in Cullen.
Mission accomplished! A grand day out in stunning scenery, ok, we’ll need to go back to see the bits that were lost in the haar. But I loved it all! At no point did I weary or struggle, and finished feeling I had loads left in the tank. A perfect final long run before the West Highland Way Race.  |
| photo from Stuart Ross |
Thank you Debbie, Kyle and all your cheery, enthusiastic marshals for putting on a great event. Also all the runners we had the pleasure to chat to en route, some doing their first ultra, well done, you picked a cracker for your debut!
For those with number OCD, it does measure a wee bit short of 50 miles, don’t let that put you off, it fairly makes up for it in stunning scenery, a beautiful route doesn’t need to conform.
Will I run it again? Yes! Definitely! Who’s coming with me?
