When selecting a shell for racing I have three criteria;
1. Does it meet the requirements of the rules?
2. Is it light?
3. Does it pack down small enough to get in and out of a small race-pack quickly?
You’ll notice that the actual performance of the jacket doesn’t feature on this list. This is because, except perhaps in Mountain Marathons, it’s very rare for me to actually race wearing a waterproof. In all but the foulest conditions or the longest races I am running so hard I generate enough heat to stay warm without one, and find that at such exertion levels I tend to get very sweaty in a waterproof.
But the rules, with good reason, require a waterproof, so it’s a waterproof I pack in my race bumbag. Occasionally it does get used. This year’s fell-racing started in earnest for me at the Slioch race in Scotland, the most northerly fell race in the UK. It was my friend Simon’s stag-do and the weather was fairly grim – driving cold rain in the valleys, and forecast snow on the tops. With my big ambition for the spring, the Jura fell race, a week away I was keen to put in a confidence-boosting performance. After a long, fast section beside Loch Maree the route began the steep climb up Slioch. As we crested the first, steepest rise and gained the main ridge the wind picked up and it started to hail. I began to feel cold in just a Cocona Crux T. This seemed the ideal time to test out the new jacket I had packed away in my bumbag but as yet not used. A bit of fumbling later and it was on, I was warming up and chasing hard, having just lost touch with the leading group. I was hopeful that a good descent could get me back with them.
At the summit I was maybe a minute behind; I switched gear and tried to let gravity do the chasing. The rain was still coming down in buckets but I was pretty happy in my own little world – hood up, chase hard, stay positive. More than any jacket I’d ever raced in before, this seemed just the right balance of protection, weight and breathability. Although it was cold, I was still surprised that I could wear it comfortably while running hard uphill and not get too sweaty.
About two thirds of the way down I caught and passed the leaders, but with an uneasy feeling about the route we’d taken. Sure enough the lead group of five of us arrived in the valley much too low down, and had a humiliating run back uphill to the final checkpoint as the new leaders ran past, smiling at their luck, in the opposite direction. The race for us was over but I carried on pushing hard to the finish, picking up a few places, telling myself that this race was more about building confidence than actually winning.
The end of May this year was exceptionally wet in western Scotland and I wore the jacket every day for the rest of a two-week holiday, including carrying it round the Jura course to my first win. The one sunny day we had I used it as a beach towel (for which it is not particularly suited!). It offers enough protection that I’d be happy using it ski touring in winter yet it’s light enough that it can also be packed in a bumbag and forgotten while racing. Surprisingly, it’s breathable enough to actually be useful while racing in bad weather.
As a super lightweight alpine back-up to a soft-shell it would be ideal. I’d hesitate to use it as a main shell for alpine or Scottish winter climbing because it doesn’t have a helmet-compatible hood and the fabric doesn’t look like it would stand up to too much thrutching up granite chimneys. However, for running or ski-alpinism races, ski touring and moderate mountaineering, anywhere where minimising weight is crucial but the weather might be gnarly, this is now my jacket of choice.
