Castle in the Clouds - the Sting in the Tail

A rum run this was! This picture is of the Castle in the Clouds which was the venue for the Roaring Falls trail race in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Lots of up and down including a 2.5 mile climb to the summit of Mt Roberts (2600') and a fairly interesting finish up several long flights of steps to the castle itself. Mt Roberts was named for a settler family from about 200 years ago - presumably Welsh, and the girl who gave me my race number was called Williams so I''m glad I wore my Welsh Dragon Buff!
Trail race, of course, can mean any number of things and this was a 12 mile ramble (in sub zero temperatures) along clearly defined trails which were knee deep in leaves (so that's why they call this time of year The Fall!) - lots of sprained ankles then. In addition to these easy bits, we had to follow trails(!) through the woods that were not defined at all apart from faded paintmarks or blazes on trees every so often - this is where the term 'trailblazer' comes from, they could have moved some of the boulders to one side!

That's me on the first climb - the beautiful view behind me is of Lake Winnipesaukee which I saw little of. The usual rockhoppers and mountain goats had run past me on the rugged uphill, one wiry grey haired chappie even had the gall to ask how old I was as he skipped merrily by. He told me he was 77 so I hung on grimly thinking this is another Don Williams - if he can do it at that age...well! However I got him and plenty of others on the downhill. Going well at 7 miles I found the one and only drinks station which I foolishly bypassed thinking there's not long left - I got it wrong again, this wasn't a 12K race it was a 12 mile race! Still I dug in and cursed the last couple of very rough miles, losing positions to folk I'd overtaken further back in the race - I cursed even more when I found that we had to climb up those steps to the castle. I was glad Vicky only told me about the steps a couple of hundred yards from the finish before I commenced a Tony Benton-like charge. Recuperating in the castle lodge wrapped in several layers of warm clothing I was approached by the mountain goat whom I'd bust a gut to get past to find he looked remarkably young - this unsporting rogue who went by the name of John Martin had lied - he was he same age as me! - so a victory of sorts cos I beat him. Where are the results?