The Grand Departure
After the mud-dodging logistics of the morning and a tactical coffee in St Ives, Wave 1 kicked off right on time. We started with a scenic loop of St Ives, which was a brilliant addition—it thinned the field out perfectly so that by the time we hit the single-track coast path, there were zero bottlenecks.
Despite nursing a tweaked ankle over the last few weeks, I felt surprisingly fresh. I was picking through the pack comfortably, holding a steady 9:00–9:30 min/mile pace. When we hit the flatter road section around Lelant heading toward Hayle, I opened up the taps, clocking a few miles in the 7–8 minute range. Passing the 6-mile mark, I was feeling invincible and well on track for a sub-4.5-hour finish.
The Wall at Hayle Quay
Then, the “Arc” happened. As I reached Hayle Quay, ready to tackle the dunes, a massive wave of exhaustion hit me out of nowhere. The tank was suddenly bone dry. I suspect a combination of things: a 6:00 am porridge that had long since worn off, a lack of sleep from manning the Land’s End checkpoint for the Arc 100 on Friday night, and perhaps some lingering fatigue from my December marathon.
I tried to be smart—I hiked for a bit, smashed an energy jelly for the sugar spike, and followed it with a flapjack and plenty of fluids. I kept waiting for the “engine” to restart, but the “mojo” had well and truly left the building. I ground my way through the dunes, just hoping to make it to Godrevy.
An Arc Angel Rescue
Reaching the 11-mile checkpoint at Godrevy in 1h 45m was a massive morale boost, mostly thanks to our own Laura Millward and her team. Their smiles and support are exactly what this race is about. However, the first hill out of the station confirmed that today wasn’t going to be a PB day.
I made a mental shift right then: I took the pressure off. The sun was out, the rain from Friday had vanished, and the coast path was actually drying out slightly under the thousands of feet that had passed before me. I decided to simply enjoy the stunning views and the “fun” of the slippery technical sections.
The Battle with Cramp
The stretch from Basset Cove to Porthtowan is the true test—huge steps and technical drops. This is where my legs decided to protest. Cramp started to set in, and I quickly burnt through my supply of five salt tablets. Each one only bought me about 15 minutes of relief.
By the time I rolled into the Portreath aid station, I had one request: “SALT.” The volunteers were legends, fueling me with salty snacks and even mixing a salt-water concoction in one of my bottles. That “brine” was a lifesaver; it kept the cramp at bay just enough to keep me moving.
The “Sting in the Tail”
The organisers weren’t joking about the finish. Just as Porthtowan comes into view, the route cruelly diverts you back out toward Wheal Coates for more climbing, followed by a relentless, step-free (thankfully!) drag back up the hill.
I finally crossed the line at the Eco Park in just over 5 hours 30 minutes. It was over an hour slower than my target, but in many ways, more rewarding.
Final Thoughts
This race was a humbling reminder: never underestimate the Cornish coast path. Whether it was the sleep deprivation from volunteering or just “one of those days,” I’ve banked some serious mental toughness points. This experience is all fuel for the fire as I look toward the goal of the Arc 100 next year!
