The Lighthouse Marathon 2025 | Race Recap
Following this year’s car crash at the Arc of Attrition in January, it was in no doubt that I’d be coming back in 2026 for redemption.
But this time I’d be coming more equipped than ever before to tackle one of the UK’s toughest winter ultras…
With this in mind, having spoken to some Arc Legends while watching at the finish line this year, I decided to recce the nastiest section that I (sadly) missed out on after DNF-ing in the form of Bys Vyken Events’ Lighthouse Marathon.
‘Twas time to sample the most infamous section of the Arc…
The Pres
Crossing the Tamar always gives me an overwhelming sense of relief - and I found myself getting the feels when I did so on Friday morning.
Having left first thing, I spent the day catching up with old pals back in the homeland, getting some pasties in the boiler as means of carbing up; and even managed to squeeze in an unexpected surf.
A beautiful evening spent with my aunt, uncle and cousin gave way to an early exit first thing on Saturday morning: a half hour drive to Race HQ at Gwithian, punctuated by a speedy pit stop for a Macca’s breakfast. Elite sports performance personified…
I parked up just as the runners in the Ultra were awaiting a coach to their start at Land's End, just as first light began to break. Race registration at Sunset Surf was nice and quiet, so I got my kit checked and made for the dunes to chill and take in the beautiful spectacle of a sleepy St Ives Bay.
Before too long, HQ had developed into a bustle of excitement - and with what looked like a corker of a day ahead weather-wise, everyone seemed pretty optimistic.
After a 30-40” coach journey west, we arrived at the mighty Pendeen Rovers FC about an hour before kick off. Final kit checks, race brief and 10 o’clock came around in a flash - our final taste of inland comfort before a battering from the SWCP…
Pendeen to Zennor Head | 0-8mi
The route began with a steady descent towards the Celtic Sea - a mile or so of road down to the stark figure of Pendeen Watch standing firm against the wild waters beyond. As with most local events, the send-off before cracking on with the coast path was awesome; friends, family and volunteers alike lining the country lane to spur us on!
As the still-relatively-crowded field condensed onto single-track, the path delivered a couple of very runnable climbs to break the legs in for what was to come. The first few miles were pretty good underfoot, save for a few boggy patches - which was handy for people trying to find their pace in the pack.
About 3 or 4 miles in, the real spice started kicking: the beautiful combination of steep, slippery steps and muddy descents meant pace began to slow. Every now and then, you’d here an ‘oo fuck’ here, and a ‘shit on it’ there where people (including myself) began to play Slip ‘n Slide on the trail.
The idea of negotiating these tricky conditions with 65-odd miles in the legs gave me a whole new level of respect for the Arc.
The technicality and difficulty of this section of the Arc course is notorious - and inevitably done in complete darkness, so I was grateful to be able to actually see the breathtaking views on offer in this beautiful corner of the world.
Framed amidst blue skies and mild temperatures (which, if you’ve spent any time in Cornwall, you will know is a huge stroke of luck), the path scaled rugged cliff faces with sheer drops; shaped and coloured by an eternity of getting bashed by the relentless waves and weather for which the area is known for.
I found myself thinking, as I plodded down to the first checkpoint, that this has got to be one of the most dramatic places I have ever ran - and that, for the first time ever, I felt fear at the hands of this unpredictable and brutal landscape…
Zennor Head to Porthmeor | 8-15mi
The first checkpoint left us with a nice little ego boost after one of the volunteers with a particularly impressive beard said he had facial hair envy (very much reciprocated), and we cracked on towards the Zennor boulder field.
I’d heard stories from my mate Gordon who smashed the Arc last year that it was nigh on impossible to navigate in the night, and even in broad daylight it was rather tricky.
Hopping from stone to stone, with no discernible path, it was a question of trying to head in the rough direction of the path. I was grateful for the FiveFingers here - people often mistake my choice of footwear for climbing shoes, and they proved why; allowing for extra traction when landing at jaunty angles.
After picking up the path again, conditions underfoot worsened. Much of this undulating section was either ankle-deep bog, underwater or jagged rocks which further slowed the pace down.
That said, the coast continued to deliver some outrageous views - the highlight being first sight of Godrevy Lighthouse when cruising round one of the many headlands.
I had latched on to a pack of much better runners at this point to taxi on towards St Ives which was much needed having had a dip in motivation and energy. It was invaluable chatting to some of these local runners, who dropped some pearls about taming this section of the coast path.
Before too long, the bogs gave way to tarmac on the approach to Porthmeor - where I got dropped by the group in favour of recharging the batteries before a long stretch on the road.
Undoubtedly the most humbling part of the route, but great craic nonetheless!
Porthmeor to Black Rock | 15-22mi
A quick restock of fluids (I had skimped massively on hydration from the start, and could feel it biting me on the ass) - and it was on towards St Ives.
At this point, the clouds had given way to beautiful blue skies that meant there were a fair few people kicking about Porthmeor, including a couple of surfers in the water. The route wound itself round St Ives Head that delivered yet another belting view across St Ives Bay towards Godrevy.
The tarmac gave way to the cobbled streets of the main strip at Harbour Beach, which was a hive of activity given both the weather and time of day. By this point, the field had stretched out considerably - so navigating the exact directions of the path became somewhat of a challenge. Luckily there was a four-strong group about 300-400ft ahead who I tried to track and follow as much as possible.
The well-paved paths were punctuated with brief, lumpy sections back on the trail; before the pavement was left behind and we were back on home territory. After mud came hard-packed sand of the dunes as we passed Carbis Bay and Porthkidney, which felt heavy on the legs - so the well-maintained path crossing the Golf Course was a welcome break for the pins.
Upon arrival at the beautiful Lelant, I again stuck around for a wee bit to offset the fluid deficit created in the first 15 miles of the race and rehydrate the system before the final push. The 3 miles that followed were grim: flat tarmac that headed inland in order to get to the other side of the Hayle Estuary.
Again, I deployed some Ultra-esque tactics to get to Black Rock: latching on to other runners at different points so as to pass the time. Although the lack of hills was rather welcome after the brutality of the first half, the tarmac gave the saturated feet a bit of a pounding - and subsequently the residual effects of a recent flare up of plantar fasciitis on my right foot started singing some songs.
With the knowledge that the CP was just around the corner, I pulled back the pace to try and shake the foot pain, which ebbed and flowed for the whole section.
Black Rock to Gwithian | 22-26.2mi
Another notorious Arc section: The Dunes of Doom.
Out of the final CP, the foot remained a wee bit sore; but entirely manageable to crack on, albeit slightly slower than I would have liked as the body still felt strong.
The Dunes that link Hayle with Gwithian and Godrevy are a bit of a maze; with loads of different offshoot paths leading nowhere. The key here, which I had remembered from this year’s Arc prep, was to follow the flagstones: great big lumps of granite with the familiar signage that help you stay on the right path.
A cluster of both marathon and ultra runners had accumulated, and it was a funny combination of Follow the Leader, and then some rogue diverters who turned out to be right. The sand gave the feet a bit of respite; instead placing more of the strain back on the quads.
The Dunes then parted to give the tantalising sight of the finish line at Gwithian car park - but alas, this was not to be the end just yet! With my foot starting to shout a bit louder than before as we hopped back on to gravelly, stony trails, it felt like torture running straight past the finish for the final mile-or-so to make up the distance.
Past the car park, the route headed back into some dunes before looping round the lake to the Red River. It was here where familiarity struck hard, having been a stalwart of my childhood surfing with the family on this beach.
As we went back up onto the dunes for the final stretch, I was reminiscing about so many beautiful memories at this incredible stretch of beach; where I truly fell in love with movement having been taught to surf by cousin Hugh and Helen 16/17 years prior. Bit of a full circle moment!
Both feet were now in searing pain after the rocky final loop, and I slowly trudged onto the beach, back up the cliff and on to the finish. Silver standard of sub-6 hours knocked off (5:23”), and an awe-inspiring day out rounded off with an exceptional reception from the finish line supporters and volunteers.
The Afters
I didn’t hang around for long at the end, as I was on a tight schedule catching up with different friends and family on this whistle-stop trip back; but I chatted to a few of the lads I had locked onto for the final 5 or 6 miles. Most of these centred around impending Arc efforts in January, so I assured it wouldn’t be long till our paths would cross once more.
With the late-autumn sun starting to set over St Ives, I walked (hobbled) down to the car to get changed and take a moment to breathe in the scenes. I stuck around for a further 15-20” to see more runners passing the torturous final mile mark of the race - before heading back to Falmouth for pints and scran.
The Final Word
The Lighthouse by Bys Vyken was one of my favourite events to date. A beautifully brutal route that encapsulates everything sweet about the SWCP: steep climbs, outrageous views and hellish terrain underfoot!
An apt event for my first ever actual Marathon (!) - and the perfect recce for the Arc100 in January, that has left me nervous and excited in equal measures to take this section in the dead of night and with 65 miles in the legs.
A huge thank you to Martin, Sarah and all the volunteers for making it all possible, and for the Cornish trail running community more broadly for being so helpful, friendly and inclusive - once again proving why Cornwall is one of the greatest places on earth.
An absolute must for anyone taking on The Arc of Attrition, or for those simply looking for a challenging trail marathon to stick in next year’s race calendar!
See you in Jan, Kernow. Pleasure as always.
