Report by Emma Jones.
Skye trail ultra 2026 – May 23rd Race Report
Sadly there was no heatwave in Skye this weekend, just rain, wind and more wind. Still, the wind kept the midges at bay. Even so, there was more water underfoot than you could shake a stick at and this was definitely the toughest ultramarathon I’ve ever attempted.
At the start the organisers announced that this was to be their last ever Skye Trail (they’ve only hosted 3), so finishing for me this time was non-negotiable – I couldn’t come back and try again, even if I wanted to. I needed a finish too just to feel I had a chance to complete my next challenge (more on that later…).
After a 2am get up for a 4am bus it starts at 6am (no wonder photos show me looking a bit blue on the start line) at the north end of the Island with a dash across a slippery field, 2k on the road then into the heather and up the first mountain.
That’s when we really felt the wind – it was fierce at the start, but there we were in the lea of the mountains and it was nothing compared to higher up, where close competitors were hidden by cloud and we were lashed by driving rain too.
Still, that first section was the easy bit – the paths where they existed had a bit of grip and some trotting was possible. The next section demanded much more time in the wind and clouds. And on the descents I was soon very wet and very muddy, having slipped over far more times than I can remember – the last time I ran here those descents were dry and lovely, today even the knobblyist fell shoes wouldn’t have been enough, let alone my comfy summer trail shoes.
So, I picked myself up and covered in mud, made it to the tourist hot spot at The Old Man of Stor. From here I hoped the wind would ease, but we were running due south, straight into it. We were off the highest peaks, but this is an island, everywhere is close to the sea and the wind has little to slow it down anywhere. Did it let up at all? – No, there were lots of times that I was unable to make any forward progress. Being buffeted about was an understatement.
Checkpoint 3 was indoors which gave some much needed if brief respite, then it was back into the wind for an estuary then tarmac trot to checkpoint 4. I was dreaming of baked beans waiting here and passed the time on the road chatting to another runner about our local Mammothon and Shropshire 80k – both of which he’d done. Well, I tried to chat but let my running mate do most of the talking, I had lost my voice. The road section was easier underfoot, there were bluebells in the verge and checkpoint 4 didn’t disappoint – beans on toast and copious cups of tea – think I spent a while here, changing my socks, taping my feet and generally gathering myself for the next stage.
Up over a big hill, then a rough coastal path to CP5 – incredibly I made it bang on schedule, or even with 3 minutes to spare – that was the first time that finishing really crossed my mind – maybe I could do this? My cold wasn’t bothering me too much, I just had to keep on pushing.
The next stint was a long one and I’d given up here once before but it was grippy and relatively flat so aside from the streams which I splashed through and rocks that bashed my toes it was relatively runnable – for a while. No sunset between the Cullins this time, but it was still light when I reached the end of the estuary and I didn’t switch on my torch till I reached the road over the hill (no I didn’t want to look at that hill). Coming down the road to the checkpoint the going was steep. Too steep. I came in with a girl who said her knees were shot and once inside she got to work with the tape as I demolished a bowl of pasta.
I had thought that was the hard part over but I was so wrong. Trying to run I realised my quads were trashed too. I’m also not sure when it started to rain again, but soon it was tipping down and it didn’t stop. After wiggling down to the sea, convinced I’d lost my glasses after a back track or two, it was time to climb again. Sog, sog, sog – it was so wet underfoot that each bog might have been a swamp and up was a blessing compared to the down. Mostly I fell downhill in the dark, often in slow motion with no way of stopping myself. At the checkpoint I breathed a sigh of relief and took a moment to collect myself. It had taken almost 3 hours to do 10 kilometres. I now had just 6 hours left to complete the last 25 kilometres and with my tired brain it wouldn’t compute. There was no running left in me. How could I go any faster?
Just putting on an extra layer had become a struggle and it took me a full 10 minutes to stop, get a warm layer out and on under my waterproof as the first light began to show. Still, I kept on pushing. I was convinced that an average pace of 12 minutes per kilometre was what I needed to beat to make it in time. I could do that on the harder tracks downhill, but up hill not a chance. Soon I couldn’t do it down hill either – the trail was too technical and slippery, very beautiful though – in the morning light I dropped down to the sea again to look up at a Jurassic waterfall spraying over the cliff above – I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see a pterodactyl flying around it rather than the lonely seagull.
Then it was up again to a lost misty valley complete with ruined walls, a large enclosure and several abandoned buildings. I couldn’t stop to wonder and take pictures. In my mind there was no time – pushing on as fast as I could was the only option. I splashed through puddles and streams as the rain continued until I came to a Krypton Factor stile. That stopped me (and hurt me – the clonk still smarts now). It was a home-made structure, not the lovely kissing gates I’d thus far encountered. It was like a high chair with no step to help me up. Remember my quads were shot – the only way I found I could manage was to haul up my full weight via my poles – it’s a good job they are strong. Once standing on the wet, slippy chair it was a relatively simple matter to climb the fence. Then how to get down? True I now had gravity on my side but the ground was rocky and uneven and I still had about 10 kilometres to go, I’d been on my own all night and was sure I was the last, I couldn’t afford a major injury. A jump couldn’t be avoided, phew I made it, but round the next corner was another stile just the same, evidently they marked the edges of someone’s land. Here we go again…
Turning away from the coast at last, fortunately there was nothing more sinister – only my own doldrums and certainty that I couldn’t make it – my biggest problem now was that I didn’t know quite how far I had to go, if the full distance was 127km I could make it, but my calculations said it could be as much as 132km due to previous sections being longer than billed, but the next bend brought the race photographer into view, wow, I must be getting close to the end now. This was new stimulus, people after so many hours alone, and friendly people telling me I was near the end too.
I raised a grin/grimmace and pushed on, maybe I could make it! At the next intersection were some old mine workings and a sign that the finish village was just 4.3 kilometres away – I knew I could do that in an hour, even with my now painful walk. There was just an old railway track to trundle along (a straight forward and gradual up hill push followed by maybe 2km of tarmac – downhill then flat along the high street, great for anyone for whom a sprint finish was possible.
Around a bend in the track I spotted another competitor ahead and managed to catch him by the end of the old railway line, just as the guy I had chatted to back before checkpoint 4 caught up with me, enormous kudos, he was still able to run and trotted off down the tarmac ahead. My own finish was mainly a speed walk, but I did manage to trott over line. A silver medal was way more than I expected, that meant my finish position was somewhere between 26 and 50 – 34th in fact! 129 km – not the longest, but definitely the hardest ultra I’ve ever done.
34th of 56 finishers and 97 starters, 1st in age category of 3 women and 2 men.
Next up – recover and work on my quads – I’ve 200 miles to do in just 8 weeks and apparently trashed quads are a major showstopper for that distance!
