Winter Night Orienteering

I’m still fumbling with my head torch as I find myself hurtling downhill, teammate close behind. I know a shortcut to our first checkpoint, swerving around runners who’d escaped earlier thanks to the puncture delay. Some are serious runners, the kind who run The Spine Race, and I’d rather not collide with one of them!

By 7:06 we’re at our first checkpoint, the leisure centre. I snap a photo and we’re off again to find “Blue Plaque on old toll house.” We’re starting in my home village, so for once, I’m leading. Usually, my teammate, a former Ordnance Survey surveyor, takes charge; her map skills are legendary. We locate the toll house, but disaster strikes again as we arrive at our third checkpoint.

“My tyre’s flat again!”

We wrestle with the mini pump, but the self-sealing tyres aren’t doing their job. “You go on without me,” she insists. I hesitate, leaving her feels wrong, but as more runners stream past, I finally set off once we’ve arranged a rescue plan. My Halloween-decorated bike whizzes into the dark, chasing the next clue: “footpath fingerpost.”

A year into doing these Winter Night Series events, I’ve learned to dread that description. Fingerposts are so difficult to find at night. As I near the spot, a runner calls, “I can’t find it, but it should be here somewhere”. As she sets off back down the hill, having failed to get the photographic evidence, I notice behind where she was standing, there’s a small, low footpath signpost! I check the map and confirm I’ve found it, but by now she’s disappeared into the darkness, so I can’t call her back.

Without my expert navigator, my weakness shows. I misread the map, head uphill when I should be going down, then backtrack, my energy flagging. Two hash browns instead of my dinner were not enough. The next checkpoint is worth 50 points though, so by 8pm I’ve got 170 total — not bad!

Feeling smug, I pause outside the pub that serves as a checkpoint, studying my map. A concerned drinker emerges.

“You lost?”
“No, I’m fine!”
“You sure? Looks like you need help.”
“I’m fine!”

He won’t stop chatting, so I ride off to think in peace. With an hour left, I decide to stick to familiar routes rather than risk new terrain alone. I speed down a pitch-black country lane lit only by my bike light and head torch. The next clue reads “Junction - lamppost number,” vague enough to cause trouble. It’s a steep descent; overshoot it and I’d have to climb back up. I pull in, double-check the grid reference, and creep down slowly until - success!

The next checkpoint is easier, a well-known landmark, visible even in the dark — and five minutes later I’m there. Another five and I’ve reached the next village’s checkpoint. It’s now 8:30. Time for a decision: one last checkpoint or head back?

It’s 15–20 minutes to the finish, but the next one is also 15 minutes away. I could risk it — but returning late means point deductions, and I’ve already earned the dubious honour of the “Spam Trophy” for finishing too late before. (A literal tin of spam, proudly presented to the last person back after 9pm)

Tempting as those extra 30 points are, I decide to play it safe. The final stretch back to the pub is uphill and relentless, but the thought of a chip butty keeps me going. I roll in with 14 minutes to spare. Maybe I could’ve squeezed in one more…

Inside, my teammate’s been rescued, and as the 9pm cut-off nears, around 30 riders and runners burst through the door, clutching checkpoint sheets and swapping tales of misadventure, wrong turns, deflated tyres, mysterious missing signposts, over well-earned drinks and chip butties.

These Winter Night Series events run monthly until March, part navigation challenge, part social adventure. They’re not a race, they are social events, though you wouldn’t know it from the competitive buzz. They’re open to runners and cyclists, solo or in pairs, male, female or mixed. The goal is simple: collect as many checkpoints as possible within two hours, photograph each one as proof, and make it back before the clock hits zero.

It’s muddy, cold, chaotic, and completely addictive.

(See Adventure Challenge Events on FaceBook).