Ricoshay's Ramblings

Lakeland Trails – Coniston 2020

What a perfect weekend!

With every event this year being cancelled due to Covid, the fact that Lakeland Trails managed to pull this off, in such fantastic style, is nothing short of amazing. And what a weekend!

I’ve been training following Matt Fitzgerland’s 80/20 level 2 marathon plan for this event, so it’s been a summer of slow, steady runs. Sundays have been written off to long runs, and every day pretty much has been a training day of some description (I’ll probably write a separate blog on this in the next few weeks). I’d booked on to the marathon way back at the start of the summer, having never run marathon distance (I’ve done some steady trail ultras) because the first question you’re always asked is ‘what time are you aiming for?’. I run for pleasure, the view, the headspace – not for a fast time, and so avoiding marathons means I avoid the pressure of this question! And then, because of course a marathon isn’t enough, I signed up for the 10k the day before, and convinced Rick and a couple of friends that it’d be a good idea for us to do that together.

The 10k was so much fun! Hannah and Andrew, our chalet kids, absolutely smashed it, and apparently caught the running bug in the process, so I can see them signing up for more in the future. Rick had a great run, and I had lovely time bimbling around in 1hr 19 to bring up the rear of our group. The route took a little tour of the Coppermines Valley, with a tough ascent at the start and then a fun descent which had you skipping along trails and slates back down to Coniston shoreline. As Storm Alex battered the UK, we enjoyed a relatively dry race – unfortunately this changed for the afternoon 15k race and I really felt for the Marshalls and runners as the rain swept across. We watched it from the pub with a few local ales.

Clockwise – (1) We did it! (2) Banishead Quarry (3) Loved running down this trail (4) Near the start, up up and up! (5) Hannah, Rick and Andrew in the Sound of Music (6) Ready for the start line

Sunday morning dawned and I prepped for my 7.47am start time. LT had organised waves of starters for each race to ensure C-19 safety, and I’d requested an early one to be confident of finishing within cut off times. It was a beautiful morning, the threatened storms of the day appeared to have changed their mind and gone elsewhere, and I warmed up with a handful of others by the stunning lake shores before setting off across the pastures into Coniston.

**The sun rises full of promise for a special Lakelands day**

I’d done the half a few years ago and it runs the same route at the start. We headed up, and up, to the picturesque Tarn Hows for a loop of the lake. This marathon isn’t described as Britain’s prettiest without very good reason. The views all the way round are immense, but Tarn Hows really is special, like a reward for your lengthy climb. I used my walking poles on every uphill, and jogged every flat or downhill element. I fell in with some others runners and we chit chatted as you do on these runs, and before I knew it, the Tarn was before me in all her majestic glory. I seemed to have reached it very easily and this gave me a little lift as I set off for my loop.

Clockwise: (1)Early morning views (2) Running up a stream (3) So pretty (4) Keep on climbing (5)More scenery (6) Tarn Hows, glorious!

The loop is undulating , and last time I did it, it seemed never ending, but on this occasion it was so much easier and I was soon at the 19k feed station. Whoever thought Worcester sauce crisps were a good idea, I salute you, what an inspired choice!

On again to new territory now as the route headed along a fire track around Coniston water, through woods and with some good elevation. I recall stopping for one photo and shouting “I’m on top of the world’ because that’s exactly how it felt! The views continued to impress us all and the sun was still shining.

**On top of the world and looking down on Coniston water**

A fun downhill track – and my quads really weren’t happy, the 10k was now starting to take it’s toll on the downhills and my ankle had developed a mystery twinge – and we were at Water Yeat. Hurrah – more crisps! And also Rick, who had made his way there to offer a few words of encouragement. Remarkably though, I was in good shape, having a blast, and off I headed to Beacon Tarn.

Wow, what a difference in terrain! Throughout the course, many of the tracks were streams due to the heavy rain the afternoon before, so my feet were already wet through, unavoidably. Vaseline and Hilly toe socks meant this was not an issue in terms of blisters, they were just soggy. Perhaps this was good preparation, because Beacon Tarn was a knee deep mud bath! I love playing in the mud but this was shoe sucking, slip sliding stuff and really quite challenging. When you weren’t in mud you were wading through streams, and they were quite deep and pretty fast flowing too. Now I was really wet!!

The last stretch returned us down to the lake shores. I glanced at my watch expecting to be at around 18 miles, and was thrilled to see I was at 22, another little lift! My last 4 went so well, hopping over tree roots, ducking branches and realising I was on track to achieve my personal goal time. I ran over the finish and collected my bling absolutely thrilled with 6.02, and still feeling in decent shape (apart from the quads, they’re still not happy now, 4 days later!)

The whole weekend was superb. The organisation (as always) by Lakeland Trails was faultless, the Marshalls were super cheerful and encouraging, the courses were incredible and even the weather behaved (well, for my events, at least). The 80/20 training clearly paid off because not ever during the runs did I think I wasn’t going to complete them, and genuinely, I loved every minute. Some might say thats because I don’t push hard enough, but to them, I say, this is fun, this is recreation – not everyone is out there to smash a PB, and quite frankly, why would you want to hurry such a glorious trail adventure?

I’ll be back next year for another event, and I can’t wait!

My marathon in numbers (and stuff)

26.02 miles (according to my watch, anyway)
6 hours 2 seconds (almost equally split for first and second half marathon)
2857 calories used
2992ft elevation gain
2 litres Tailwind
3 homemade protein balls (yummy!)
2 bags of Worcester sauce crisps (inspired)
2 salt tablets

Pier Cafe, Stronachlachar

Yes! We loved this place! Housed in an old (Victorian?) building, with a newer glass dining area overlooking Loch Katrine, the team are wonderfully hospitable and the goodies were just fab! I had a cinnamon and apple scone, still oven warm, with lashings of jam and butter, Rick had a Bakewell slice which he demolished. Silky hot choc topped with whipped cream – really, who could ask for more! Oh, and under £12 for the lot – and the portions are generous.

Lunch time menu looked scrumptious too!

Slanj Inn, Tarbet

So cool! A church that’s now a pub, painted in a trendy blue inside with a giant St Andrews flag, some really neat artwork, chatty waitstaff, local drinks, and the option to park your Moho outside for the night. We had a couple of pints of their cask Highlander, very drinkable and reasonably priced. The food that diners were tucking in to looked good too. Recommended, but take a jumper, it was chilly in there. It’s about a 10 minute walk up from Tarbet Pier.

Meat and two veg

It’d be rude to visit Cumbria and not try some local Cumberland sausage. We may have bitten off more than we could chew on this occasion though!

As a Yellowbelly I would always, always vouch for Lincolnshire sausage as the king of tubular meat, but this was right up there. Super meaty, no ‘nasty’ bits and perfect with onion gravy, this monster sausage was worth the wait as it cooked all the way through.

If you want to try it, look for WF Hutchinson. You’ll not be disappointed!

Strawberry fields forever?

I finally got a job – woo hoo! Four weeks picking table top strawberries at the very large local farm, which has a major camp for overseas workers but this year, due to Covid 19, finds itself somewhat short of labour.

I have applied to so many farms and agencies with very little response. It’s really quite bizarre because the media is shouting constantly that farms are desperate for workers. Unable to bring in their old workforces due to travel restrictions (and Brexit worries), the headlines whip up a furore that ‘food will rot in the fields’ and that we’ll all go hungry as the year progresses. The theme of the story is that Brits won’t do the work because its too hard, too early, underpaid and boring. Running alongside this are the comments that farmers have used cheap labour for years, managing to under pay and exploit willing Bulgarians and Romanians to harvest their crops. I’m not agreeing with these statements , just summarising what I am reading and hearing. So here is my version of events.

Encouraged by the headlines, I figured work would be easy to come by. I am surrounded by farmland. I applied, and applied. I completed application forms. I completed video interviews. I was sent a whole load of online work to do and assigned a tutor to help me on my learning journey, a pre -requisite for interview And I wondered – do the imported workforce have to do all this to get a role? Because it certainly feels like quite a barrier to entry for a manual labour job. The whole recruitment process feels cumbersome, slow and unnecessarily difficult. But on we go.

Eventually, I took a call from Place UK offering me an assignment. It works particularly well for me as it is only 6 miles away, plus it’s tabletop work (how spoilt am I?!) so much less back breaking than ground level crops. Sweet.

Our first day we were told how grateful they were to have us, 40 Brit workers who’d all decided for various reasons to take up picking roles and help ‘feed the nation’, the strapline that seems to have been adopted to keep the war theme of this whole lockdown going. Whether it’s politicians wanting to be seen as generals fighting an unseen enemy, or individuals mourning the loss of their liberties, cooking up conspiracy theories, or the rationing on supermarkets, we do like a good war, it seems!

We had a brief induction, had our temperatures taken, and set off for the field for training. It was a short and gentle day, starting at a very sociable 8am, and we all seemed pretty happy with our choices.

Strawberry trolleys - they're pretty heavy when you're full and on very bumpy ground! — Strawberry trolleys – they’re pretty heavy when you’re full and on very bumpy ground!

Day 2 was much the same as other new team members were inducted and trained. And then the details of the weekend were laid out – we’d be working all weekend (that’s ok, I expected it), and to beat the heat of the afternoon, we’d be starting at 5am. 5am! Ouch! But its ok, it’s four weeks and this is to beat the heat. And we’d start on piecework too – a payment based on kilograms picked above a certain level, but underwritten with a guarantee of national minimum wage. How exciting – some people earn £150 a day, apparently! Buoyed by this incredible oportuntiy, off we went and dutifully set our alarm clocks for the next day.

25 kilos an hour, it turns out, is a LOT of strawberries. By the end of the day, I think I was hitting around 20, and I was the fastest out there. The dream of walking away after 4 weeks absolutely minted had evaporated in one, hot, sweaty, dusty day.

To be fair, we all got quicker. I hit the target for one day last week, after which the crop was depleting so fast it was almost impossible, and that was made even harder by the target increasing to 28kg as the fruit got smaller and harder to find. Over the ensuing days, the weather got significantly colder (we still started at 5am, though, to beat the heat…..), the rules got stricter (don’t drop strawberries, don’t put small ones in your trays, you must waste them, don’t break the stems, don’t take water in the tunnel with you), the pick rate slowed, the Bulgarians joined us in the tunnels, and morale slipped away.

I baked a cake and took it in for break time to help lift spirits. By this time, we’d all had our first pay and realised something wasn’t quite right. Turns out that we get paid from the time we start picking, not the time we are told to arrive, a legal issue that is being challenged as I type. We have not been able yet to get an answer of what else is missing as we are all a bit short.

Today we had a better day as targets have come down a bit and I’m pretty sure I’ve earned extra as a result. The banter is back in the tunnels, and we’ve had a couple of highlights such as finding nests of eggs or chicks snuggled away in the plants. Unfortunately though we have also all had our rota cut by 2 days as the crop is low, and we’ve been told we almost certainly won’t get any work on the next crop when our contracts come to an end because the imported workers are all coming back and we are too slow!

Some of the Bulgarian team have been quite chatty and friendly, and our supervisors are Bulgarian too. I’ve seen them helping out the Brits with their trays on several occasions, but also I’ve seen them cherry pick the fruit too. They don’t appear to work any faster than some of us quicker pickers though, so unless there’s some ‘gaming’ of the system, I’m not sure how they achieve the big totals. Also, as I understand it, we are all on the same rate with the same underpinning NMW, so that’s another myth scotched.

Perfect, juicy - but too small. Waste — Perfect pick?

So this is my summary of ‘Feed the Nation’ so far. Farmers needed Brit workers, and going forward post Brexit, will need us again. They have attracted us because we are out of work, bored, struggling for cash or feeling the need to do our bit. It was their best chance to demonstrate that all the unpleasant rumours about how farms work were in fact untrue, and that picking work was a great option for students, the retired, people looking for a summer job, etc, so they could future proof their labour supply. They could really build a positive reputation. The work is quite tough, but far from horrible, especially when the sun is shining. I can think of much worse jobs to have. I suspect my fingernails may never be clean again! The early start means you get your afternoons back, even if that is lost in napping! But the targets have become, at times, a demotivating factor and many have openly said they are cruising for the hours. Most disappointing, though, is the lack of transparency around pay and the fact that we are likely to be dropped like hot potatoes now the imported labour force is returning. We are the ones who will talk about our experiences, and if that labour force dwindles post Brexit, I think farms will have a hard time selling their picking jobs in future summers to Brits again.

Footnote

I quit about 2/3 through my contract, and I understand only two or three Brits saw out the contract in full. One was offered more work. It turned out that the days you didn’t hit piece rate were ‘topped up’ by the days that you did. So if you had an off day, it completely undermined the hard work on other days, and your higher rate was wiped out. One lad hit piece rate all week only to eliminate all the good he’d done on a high target, low crop day. So no bumped up wages, just NMW. And you didn’t get paid from the time you arrived, you got paid once on the field (which is an unlawful deduction of wages). Not a great sales pitch for next year’s workforce when freedom of movement really bites.

Coronavirus Lockdown – keeping busy

A couple of years ago, after Rick had commented a few times about messing around on the water, I bought him an inflatable kayak for Xmas. We usually get to play in it a few times over the summer, and have paddled locally on the Broads and in the sea, and further afield in the Lake District. It’s a neat little thing, comfortably seats two, is easy to assemble and provides a lot of fun. So much so in fact that my mum bought one so she and Geoff could come out to play too.

Last year, unsurprisingly, it didn’t get much use at all, but we’ve had some lovely weather in lockdown so we’ve been out for a couple of splashes.

First stop, Mayton Bridge. We paddled along to Buxton one early evening, with friends who knew the area well and they went on stand up paddleboards. We saw a bull with the biggest balls ever!!! Standing proudly with all his female friends and lots of adorable calves. The damselflies were just starting to show, and the countryside rolled away to either side to provide a gorgeous backdrop.

The plan was to picnic when we got back to the Bridge but there were some rather unruly folk there, with dogs that seemed happy to foul anywhere and no evidence of social distancing, so we drove on to Colitshall and had our picnic there instead. It was so refreshing to see friends – at a distance of course – and just natter away for a while.

Coltishall is a lovely paddling spot so we returned there a few days later on another balmy evening to paddle together again, serenaded by thrushes and finches. This time fish and chips beckoned and we watched a tern flitting and darting whilst enjoying our supper.

It’s such a chilled out pastime. So quiet and peaceful – especially at the moment – but the perfect antidote to the stress of what lockdown and Covid 19 bring next. We’ve now paddled from Stalham Staithe and Irstead too and its been blissful every time. A rare upside to lockdown!

Update June 2020

For those who have followed our story thus far – Rick has seen his oncologist since returning to the UK, and yesterday had a ‘just in case’ ultrasound. He has been doing really well but still struggles with a lot of food due to not producing saliva normally. Also, his mouth is very sensitive – he even finds Heinz tomato soup too peppery! He lost three stone in all and is only putting a tiny bit back on, but is fit, able to run and work, and is not as tired as he used to be. It’s going to be a long haul yet, but the ultrasound was all clear and we are very happy.

As always, huge thanks to all at the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital teams, they are MEGA!

Coronavirus Lockdown part Four

All settled in to our new place, and finding our feet locally, and quietly, so as not to draw any attention to the fact that we are here. It’s not an area we know very well, so it’s great to explore on our ‘daily exercise’ sessions. These sessions are becoming longer for me, due to extreme boredom – I walk or run, yoga, and do a bit of the now highly popular Joe Wicks workouts. That fills at least a couple of hours for me each day. Rick is working most days so I’m home alone, trying to find reasons to not just keep putting food in my mouth! Job hunting is another pastime. Countdown is becoming a bad habit. At least it’s sunny and I am surrounded by the beauty of nature.

This job hunting business is a nightmare though. I have been told by two different agencies that I am starting work in a few days, and yet both jobs failed to materialise. The first agency – the grandly named Morson International – didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me, I had to chase them. And Tailor Made – or Total Recruit, as they became recently – kept delaying start dates and never replied to emails unless I contacted the branch manager via LinkedIn. It really is an appalling way to treat people, and I can only assume they are simply building their databases with candidates to impress employers.

I’ve applied for every farm picking job going (more on that soon!), shelf stacking, delivery driving, care home cook, ambulance driver, warehouse packer – nothing. So I am awaiting my furlough payment, which is taking an age! And I keep filling in application forms and sending in my CV in the hope that someone would like to hire me for the summer.

The boredom is so bad that I’ve even gone to work with Rick, spending 2 days on a building site moving bricks and flooring. Seriously hard physical work, I used muscles I’d forgotten I had! But it was strangely quite enjoyable, just being able to do something.

The highlight on the last few weeks has been the VE Day commemorations. Wow, what a great effort on the beeb to entertain us, we sat in and watched it, stuffed full of cake following our own little garden soirée. We had made bunting and cakes and scones, and chilled in the sunshine to Forties music. It was a lovely bank holiday afternoon, gave us a reason to wear something other than day pyjamas (you know exactly what I mean, don’t you?!), and most importantly, reminded us to reflect on what real hardship was for all those living thru the war. Much of the UK seemed to have taken time to get involved and it was heartwarming to see that even in lockdown, we could in some way mark this special day.

The red and blue colouring didn’t quite come thru!

Coronavirus Lockdown part Three

I love living by the coast! I love running on the beach, I love seeing the sea every day, I love the sounds of the waves turning the cobbles on the beach. Sunrise and sunset are so special. The air feels cleaner. And if it’s a bit fresh, there lots of trails heading inland here which are lovely to walk or run, and there’s hardly anyone around.

We were really enjoying living in the holiday cottage. The sniping had stopped – or so we thought. With a fixed residence for the foreseeable, I could apply for jobs – ambulance support, supermarket work, fruit picking, shelf stacking.

You know this is going to come to an abrupt end, don’t you?! Clearly this was far too easy! Our tenants in Lincoln had a crisis and a new boiler was required. Unsurprisingly, we couldn’t find anyone to fit it, so off we toddled to replace it for them. And guess what? Our new neighbours reported us for being away overnight!

We got a call from SI – the neighbours were unhappy we’d stayed away, it wasn’t allowed, we were going to kill them, they were calling the police, the letting company, etc, etc. The situation was completely untenable. Our friends were placed under immense pressure, and we clearly were not welcome back in our old home town. Homeless again.

This time our rescuer was our friend and Rick’s new employer, with a holiday cottage in the countryside. It’s lovely. So peaceful and quiet, and (touch wood) nobody threatening us with eviction (yet). So in a day we drove back from Lincoln, packed up, cleaned the cottage, moved 40 minutes away, and unpacked again. All very stressful and frankly unnecessary, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned during this crisis, its that it has divided the public very clearly in two. Group 1 – caring people, helpful people, thoughtful people. Group 2 – self appointed Coronavirus police.

The irony of this whole fiasco – I’d just secured a job locally as a key worker, which I had to turn down as a result of the move, so I’m still unemployed and therefore a burden rather than a help to society (and the neighbours). Although – good news – after a strongly worded letter about unpaid wages we were offered a month’s furlough! Hurrah!

Meeting the locals, and a splash of colour from the area.

Coronavirus Lockdown part Two

Staying in our van is generally a lot of fun, because it means we are exploring new places across Europe and Britain. We don’t spend much time actually in it because we are often out walking, cycling, visiting, and enjoying life. Being in isolation in a van is not quite so much fun though. Each day we do our PE with Joe Wicks outside – with a lovely view – and then go for a run or a bike ride, but the rest of the day is somewhat cooped up. We knew we needed a more sustainable plan for lockdown.

Our wonderful friends, SI, also operate holiday cottages. Lockdown means they have no income, so we agreed a casual let; it meant we had somewhere to live, and they had cash flow. Great news all round, and not at odds with govt policy as it would mean we could be in one place, and also we could work.

We moved in at the weekend. Wow, that was an eye opener! Driving through Cromer in the van, we were met with abject hostility – people shouted at us, gesticulated at us, and then when we parked at the cottage, one of the neighbours came out shouting ‘you shouldn’t be here!’ Not the usual spirit of British neighbourliness! I understand that folk are worried, that there is a fear that ‘outsiders’ will bring the virus in, but attacking anyone you don’t recognise – or that happens to be in a camper – is hardly the solution.

We explained to the neighbours why we were there, our history, the fact that we lived locally for years, etc, and it seems to have settled. And what a beautiful place to rent. Sea views from every window. Walks along the beach or cliff top. Shops within walking distance. We can continue to social distance, whilst living in a bit more comfort, and have applied for a ton of local jobs, from shelf stacking to cleaning to driving patient transport.

Then, an absolute result. Rick is a gas engineer, which is classed as essential work. He was offered work with another friend and local builder, so he has something productive to do to occupy his time.

The next few weeks won’t be easy for any of us, but a bit of work (hopefully I’ll get some too) and a stunning location will certainly make it easier!