By Sean Higgins

The SILVA Northern Traverse™ has been on my to-do list for quite some time. I entered the SILVA Lakes Traverse™ in 2023 to get an idea of what to expect, and I was blown away by how tough it was on the foot. I got into Shap with trashed feet and thought there was no way I'd want to do anything more than that, thankful I was going home – The SILVA Northern Traverse™? No chance! I gave it a couple of months to forget about it and signed up for the big one anyway.

In terms of preparation, I did what I normally do – a couple of races, loads of rest, and a bit of strength and conditioning. I'm not a frontrunner and never will be, and I'm happy to go into any race slightly undertrained and fresh – it works for me, but it's not for everyone.

The most nervous I get is at kit check. 6 hours on the train to St Bees from Hull, I messaged my mate, who was in the hall, as I was just about to get off the train.

"It's dead quiet – you'll be through in no time". I walked to the hall and got there just at the right time – 2 minutes after a bus load of people from Robin Hood’s Bay had entered, straight to the back of the queue, thinking that's delayed my pint in Seacote this... But within no time at all, it was an express-like kit check, straight through, no problems, everyone in the hall was great.

After a three-course meal, a couple of pints, and an excellent night's sleep, me and my spine friend Lindsy went to the beach to collect a stone and dip our feet in the sea, both going ankle-deep via a couple of rogue waves – nice one.

St. Bees to Rosthwaite

Just before Ennerdale Water, I managed to bag a ham and cheese panini from The Gather Cafe – they even put it in a posh box with crisps, winning already!

*The stunning Lake District ©No Limits Photography*

Ennerdale Water didn't disappoint – great views with tricky on-the-foot conditions in parts, and a bit of shelter from the wind. It didn't last long, because just after Black Sail Hut on the climb out towards Honistor Slate Mine, staying on 2 feet was challenging. It was whipping around at that point. 2 days of this wind, Storm Kathleen was letting us know she was here – Hi Storm Kathleen.

I used to always struggle with my feet, and I said to myself, look after your feet this race and you stand a good chance of finishing. I got to Rosthwaite with semi-trashed feet, and socks off, and tried to dry them out. Waterproof socks with liners had kept my feet nice and toasty, but had also kept all the moisture in from being a bit sweaty. No panic – I taped them up where they looked dodgy, changed my socks, had a good feed, and cracked on.

*Day one of the adventure to Robin Hood’s Bay ©No Limits Photography*

As soon as I left Rosthwaite, I then realised what was ahead. This next hill nearly finished me off last year, but I decided a nice slow plod up and it'll be over in no time. Still it felt like forever. I got to the summit, and my mate Rich Whitaker caught up with me from nowhere. I'd been looking behind to see where he was and couldn't see him, and he just appeared like magic, just before the long descent. Another big climb before Patterdale, and the struggle started. Rich was super strong and took off while I was taking baby steps, trying to catch my breath.

Patterdale to Kirkby Stephen

Once at Patterdale, we were told to put the diversion GPX on our watches and handhelds and weren't allowed to leave until we had done so. We had a really good feed at Patterdale. The marshals were all brilliant, providing table service, jokes, and general care throughout our stay. It was incredible. Rich couldn't get the GPX on his handheld as he needed a laptop, so he was asked to pair up with me for this next section, which I didn't mind at all, it just meant he would be locked into my wonderful company for 15 miles.

As we left Patterdale for Shap, we started climbing, and the pressure was on Nav. Although straightforward, little doubts crept in, thinking we're climbing a bit, aren't we? So I double-checked my GPX and all was well. After a couple of dodgy turns and doubling back, we were on it and powered our way to Shap with some pleasant 50-60mph sideward winds and plenty of newly formed river crossings. There's me thinking the diversion would be easier. Maybe if we had been provided with a canoe or a kayak, but not on foot.

Now at Shap, this was a chance to air the feet, change the socks, and have a good feed. It was quite a quick turnaround, in fairness. Soon enough, we set off for Kirkby Stephen. Within 10 minutes, my feet were soaked but felt much better. As we made our way across to Kirkby Stephen, Rich was hanging back a bit, so I gave him the green light to crack on as I was struggling. Eventually, the sun came out, and I saw another opportunity for a sock change and to air my feet. As soon as I took my trainers and socks off, it started raining, although there were no clouds above. I never understood that one and proceeded to sign at the sky.

The struggle continued all the way to Kirkby Stephen. I even had doubts as to why I was even bothering. After a quick look at the train timetable, I thought it could be a good chance to bail at the next CP. I kept thinking, I could be sitting at home now with the heating blasting out doing nothing. I called a little meeting with myself, and after 15-20 minutes of deciding whether I should just DNF or continue, I came to the conclusion that I needed to grow up and crack on. No minutes were taken during the meeting.

Finally reaching the CP, I was about to be given a list of food options, the first one Macaroni Cheese. Some of, if not the best, Mac and cheese I've ever had. 2 plates and a brew later and I’m back in the game. I decided on trying to get some sleep, blowing my mat up. After getting comfy in the tent, the mats deflated, so do I lay here for a while on this really comfy concrete floor or get up and re-inflate my mat? I got up, pumped it up, and got comfy again. It's gone again, but being that tired, I shut my eyes and boxed in 15 minutes of sleep. It turns out I had not been locking the valve properly. What a sausage.

Kirkby Stephen to Richmond

Feeling brand new and ready for the next section, me and Rich Whitaker agreed upon a 10pm exit with a nice steady climb up to Nine Standards. We left at 5 minutes past, and my aim was to keep my feet dry for as long as possible. I followed Rich up, and another runner was with us, but I couldn't keep up with him trying to dodge every bit of water, and all of a sudden he was out of sight, talking to me for a couple of miles, thinking I was just behind, but it wasn't me, it was the other runner.

*Surrounded by mountains ©No Limits Photography*

After finally reaching the nine standards, the bogs started. I don't do recces often, but if i were to recce any part of this course, it would be this bit. In the pitch black, trying to pick the right line in freezing bogs became quite tricky. Keeping my feet dry was well out the window, knee deep in places. What's this all about? Lots of swearing directed towards Mr Wainwright followed. 100% he was on the sauce when he put this section in. What a crazy man he must have been. Eventually, the bogs stopped (get in!), then started again – this is ridiculous. I was never in trouble as I knew time was not an issue, but those bogs were a joke!

The bike centre opened at 9am, so anytime just after 9, and I'm laughing here. I'd received information during the race that the breakfast was a bit of a winner. With that, I timed the section to perfection, and just after 9 I arrived. I had a full English breakfast and sat outside because some weird, circular, warm thing in the sky was showing its face. I had a little nosey in the bike shop, as I knew I was running out of socks. Another win took place as I splashed the cash as I was on holiday – everything is free on holiday! I bought a 3 pack, literally living in luxury now!

The bike shop to Richmond was pretty uneventful – just coat off, coat on, as it was freezing and all of a sudden mid year Mediterranean-like temperatures through the saturated fields.

*Beautiful landscape ©No Limits Photography*

Richmond to Lordstones

Once at Richmond, I needed sleep. My eyes were burning, a bit like being in a pub 20 years ago when everyone smoked. That sort of burning, horrible. Curry and a brew – I thought I'd sneak a shower before trying my hand at the blow up mat again. I was informed it was cold showers, but once in there, I lifted one of the valves next to the shower head, and I had warm water. Another win, as I'm guessing everyone had been experiencing cold showers all day. I managed to get a solid hour of sleep here. Feeling refreshed, feet freshly taped, and brand new socks again, we set off for Lordstones.

Richmond to Lordstones was pretty flat, which I wasn't complaining about as we kept ticking the miles off steadily. A few miles outside of Ingleby Cross, the heavens opened up, and again getting smashed by the rain and wading through ankle deep water was back on the agenda. What a laugh this is! Soon as the garage came into sight, I saw people inside – bonus checkpoint. As I entered, my friends Rich and Lindsy were looking to crack on to get to Lordstones, and that’s exactly what they did. I waved them off.

With it still smashing down with rain, the two ladies in the garage said, “Get your feet up and have a rest if you want.”

I'm absolutely dripping at this point and thought, what a bonus! I thanked them about 20 times before suddenly realising I was about to embark on my own version of supermarket sweep. Remember, I'm on holiday – everything is free. One of the ladies asked me if I wanted a pizza. As I had my back turned, I nearly got whiplash, turning around to say "yes please", coffee "yes please", what's going on? They gave me permission to get my feet up and not to worry about the mess, as my bag lay in its own puddle. I smashed in a latté, a full-fat coke, and a full pizza and had a quick glance at some of the mail I received on the open tracking, which was another little boost. I dried my feet out again and replaced some tape that had come loose.

*The stunning Keld ©No Limits Photography*

Leaving Ingleby Cross as a new person, I'm back on home soil. The climb up to Cleveland Way took me by surprise, which went on for a while, and the climb up to the summit before Lordstones went on for about 7 days.

Descending into Lordstones, I could see someone shining a light. It felt like an age before I got to it. It was a Hardmoors friend in Graham Pepper who was volunteering. He then ushered me into the CP after asking me what took me so long. He had a point.

A quick bite to eat and a change, went and had a kip amongst the puddles in the tent, which I'm surprised weren’t bigger considering the amount of rain we'd had. I didn't set an alarm, but I managed 45 minutes before scraping myself off the floor for some more grub before pushing on.

Lordstones to Glaisdale

Rich and Lindsy were leaving at 9am, so I thought I’d try and tag on to them for a bit across the 3 Sisters. I managed to do so before the climb out of Clay Bank, but waved them off as I'd strained my calf/achilles. Something down there wasn't right when walking, but didn't hurt when I ran, so it's not all bad. I managed to catch up before Lion Inn, and I had a mad idea I'd crack onto Glaisdale without stopping, but the rain was coming in sideways again and was smashing about six of us in. There was no hiding in this section – it's quite open.

*Explore the North of England ©No Limits Photography*

I got into Lion Inn, looked at the menu, and I knew I couldn't turn down another food opportunity. Latté and a chilli jacket potato, please. Result. With rain hitting the windows, this will be a hard place to leave. All our gear spread around the pub next to the fires, talking rubbish and having a giggle. The thought of going back out wasn't very appealing. I popped another layer on before making our way to Glaisdale.

Me, Rich and Lindsy left together, followed closely behind by Emma, Helen, and Stephen. Cheeky little section this, and a long one at that. The long straight sections took forever in all the sideways rain. I was on my arse briefly as I tried to keep the pace. My run was Lindsy and Rich’s walk. Me and Lindsy even managed to belt out parts of our go-to Karaoke songs on some the long exciting stretches of road, SOBER!

Glaisdale, the village that never came, was my thinking, but eventually it did, and we were welcomed by more top class volunteers, who fed us and put us back together, even treating us to several false fire alarms, which was quite funny. I had done my own feet up until this point, but the medic offered to pop a bit more tape on and gave me some good advice on taping my big toes. I had only taped them to keep my toe nails from coming off. I had newly taped feet again and some brand new white socks, which I apologised to as I put them on. Now, let's make the most of the daylight.

*The stunning North York Moors ©No Limits Photography*

Glaisale to Finish

Me, Rich and Lindsy left Glaisdale. The sun was out, and the weather looked decent now, but we still had all our layers on. I had six layers on – absolutely no way I'm getting cold on this last section. Nice weather, drama-free finish, I thought. Within the hour, we were wading through shin deep water under a bridge, then Grosmont came, and that hill, as we all climbed it, wasn't more than 100 metres, and I was already fighting for oxygen. The floor was about a foot away from my face because of the steepness, I've driven in and out of here before, never on foot. Lindsy was powering up it – I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought she's sandbagging about this dodgy ankle she mentioned, surely? She flew up it. It turns out Lindsy had done a Mars bar and some wine gums prior to the climb. I thought she found a hidden escalator!

I wasn't prepared for the next bit, bogs, continuous bogs. We had a good rhythm going, and not much talking got done apart from the odd swear, these bogs went on and on and on. Rich led the way, and he was proper on it. His hike is ridiculous, and at this stage, I couldn't understand how he wasn't slowing down. He did however, go face first into the bogs, but was OK when we caught up with him.

I had banged on about how excited I was to make the turn onto the Cleveland Way for hours. As soon as we got through the caravan park, a few metres from making this turn I'd gone on about, I'd noticed Rich's head torch wasn't on, dead battery, so I insisted he get it changed before we went on the coastal path. Literally, as we made the turn, I'd done a solid 8/10 pirouette, and I'm on the floor, sliding in the mud as I'm turning around to make sure he's OK. I got covered in mud, gloves covered, and grips on my poles covered. I have never wanted to get off Cleveland Way so much. It was just a massive mud bath, which isn't fun in the middle of the night. Another pirouette (6/10) for good measure followed by forward frog splash into the mud – what a way to end this fiasco!

That Cleveland Way section was like a survival course, but we stuck together as a trio and made it. We slowly descended to the finish, all buzzing that it was done, got some photos, and we were reminded about our stones we had carried for 190 miles across the country. Rich literally lobbed his into the freshwater heading towards the sea, said nothing, span around, and started his way up the hill, saying nothing, which was quite funny. I think he'd had enough. The water wasn't too far, so me and Lindsy went and dipped our feet and chucked our stones in sync into the North Sea. Job done.

There was never an intention to run together, and we didn't for the majority of the race. We ran our races and were lucky to start and finish at the same time. It just felt like the perfect ending.
From the outside looking in, I saw a Race Director who cares about his team and competitors, top-quality checkpoints, filled with top-quality volunteers, chefs, and medics. An incredible event I'll never forget.

If you're on the fence about giving it a crack, don't let the mileage put you off – split it up into 8 races if you have to. This is an opportunity to bin off real-life and adulting responsibilities for a few days.

The food at the checkpoints is brilliant. Carry that extra kit that's not on the list, look after your feet, take socks in your backpack, and pack more socks than you think you'll need. You might want to quit at points, get to that next checkpoint, reset, and go again, but most importantly, treat it as an all-inclusive running holiday like I did.

Sean Higgins