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Tuff-Inish

Tackling Tuff-Inish on The Wild Atlantic Way
Cat Sutherland // Photography by Johny Cook
Produced in partnership with Grangers

My phone beeped. I looked down to see a message from Johny, a friend and photographer who’d be joining my impending adventure on the Irish Coast. We were off to tackle Tuff-Inish, a 132km dogged affair comprised of running, cycling, and kayaking along the Wild Atlantic Way.

Staring back from the screen was a photo of a man capitulating to the thrashing rain; the headline announced the devastating arrival of Storm Callum over the coming days. Perfect. No better way to bring out my steely self than fiendish wind and torrential downpour, coupled with a frightening feat of endurance. It seemed the timing of a partnership with Grangers could not have been better, the hashtag #withgrangersyoucan forcing a wry smile.

In contrast, departure day delivered nothing but calm as we waited to fly from Inverness airport. Taking off in our tiny plane towards Belfast, blue skies and bright sunshine waved us off across the Irish Sea. We both breathed a sigh of relief, happy we’d made it that far.

As we came in to land, the rays had been replaced by lashings of rain: a more telling tale of the following day’s forecast. As we made our way towards the Irish border, we took in the scenery, eventually arriving in Moville, the start and finish of this rapid-fire round of adventure sports. I had just 12 hours to complete close to 2,500m of upward struggle.

The sight of bulging transition boxes at race registration made me gulp. Other competitors were loaded with enough gear to circumnavigate the globe, never mind Donegal. Johny helpfully reminded me to focus on my own event. We set about building my bike and checking kit for the inevitable onslaught from the elements.

As it turned dark, in mutual anticipation of what was to come, the tiny gathering of competitors huddled together for race briefing. It wasn’t long before I’d struck up animated conversation with others in the field. We shared stories of past races, wished each other the best of luck – and questioned our sanity.

We were off to tackle Tuff-Inish, a 132km dogged affair comprised of running, cycling, and kayaking along the Wild Atlantic Way. Staring back from the screen was a photo of a man capitulating to the thrashing rain; the headline announced the devastating arrival of Storm Callum over the coming days. Perfect.

As I pedalled off, I zipped my jacket tightly up to my neck, the rain starting to shows its strength as I rode off to face the unforgiving climbs ahead. Following the Wild Atlantic Way, it struck me how few people we saw. Lining the road instead were dozens of donkeys, horses, and cattle – all peering curiously towards the flashes of colour riding past at speed.

I never sleep well before a race. My mind churns at a speed I only wish I could match on a bike, and so I blearily forced my way to the shower, jolting my body and mind into action. I shovelled in as much food as my nerves could manage before donning my armour of waterproof kit and making it to the start line.

A blast of sea air and sideways rain welcomed us under the gantry, the neon green numbers from the timing clock lighting up our nervous faces. With a steady start, the group soon spread out along the road towards the first transition. As I adjusted to the harsh impact of tarmac under my feet, dusk turned to daylight and the sea view – once crystal clear – was now a sullen fog clinging to the Causeway coast. I kept my legs turning lightly, pacing myself for a long, merciless day that was going to require formidable force against a darkening sky.

At Magilligan Port, familiar faces rushed to help and acquaint me with a paddle for the second leg. Recent weather reports had me convinced this section would be cancelled, but the storm showed some solace as I placed my paddle in the water, making silent strokes. Landing on the opposite pier, I’d managed to pick up some places and was delighted to be back on familiar, firm ground.

As I pedalled off, I zipped my jacket tightly up to my neck, the rain starting to shows its strength as I rode off to face the unforgiving climbs ahead. Following the Wild Atlantic Way, it struck me how few people we saw. Lining the road instead were dozens of donkeys, horses, and cattle – all peering curiously towards the flashes of colour riding past at speed.

A slow, perpetual ascent led us further along the Wild Atlantic Way. Harsh, exposed, and unrelenting, it was worth every inch of pain for the view that came into sight. At last it topped out – keenly followed by steep, slick turns linking the road back down towards the shore. As I turned towards the hills again, I caught sight of Johny snapping shots and capturing our struggle against the dramatic scenery.

At the halfway stage, with close to 73km covered, we faced a final lashing to our legs on the brutal ascent of Mamore Gap. Gritting teeth, I caught up with Martina just ahead. We picked the toughest few metres to strike up conversation and edged each other forward towards the transition spot, cheers from her chirpy support crew shared between us both.

An open van door at the hike transition offered a retreat from the rain. I snuck in, taking a moment to peel off my soaking layers and sip a cup of hot, sweet tea. Biting faster than I could chew, I chomped on a bar that had been disintegrating in my pocket, then marched off up towards the summit.

Tiny yellow markers led the way up the rocky route, but the path soon turned to bog and rugged hillside. With heavy legs, I picked my way through ragged boulders toward the top; racers flashed past me on the downward slope. Soon I was doing the same, whilst making sure to look up and take in the North Atlantic views.

Our final ride delivered a sting right from the start. We’d transitioned halfway up the infamous ascent, forcing me to stand up on the pedals, grip the bars with soaking skin, and grind my gears with gusto. I passed a curious white stone, which I later found out marked ‘The Magic Road’ – an optical illusion that appears to pull cars uphill in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, no amount of magic made it any easier, but the reward was soon to come. From the crest, a seemingly endless descent led us straight towards the sea and the bustle of town life for a brief moment. Soon the route wrapped around misty, moody moorland towards our final transition to the run.

Our ultimate leg was a bold half-marathon distance, a true test of grit and resilience. With trepidation, we were treated at first to trail: my preferred terrain when it comes to pounding out the miles. My tired legs began to revolt though once I hit the road, grimacing. It called for Herculean strength of both mind and body and I was reduced to walking pace, furiously counting the metres.

Shuffling and aching after what felt like an age, I caught sight of Johny again, snapping my every discomfort and growing disdain for manmade surfaces. As the route took a turn, thankfully so too did the ground. I distracted myself from the suffering by counting short steps, edging myself the last few kilometres on the road and ticking off the now familiar markers towards Moville.

As I turned the final corner and climbed the few remaining, cruel metres to the gantry, rapturous cheers spurred me to the finish line. At last I could stop. Weary satisfaction quickly replaced the pain. Summoning a smile, I retreated into the warmth. Congratulations came from those who’d already finished, with offers of hot soup and steaming mugs of tea a welcome reward for my efforts.


The Tuff-Inish adventure race is a real physical and mental challenge, fueled by the spectacular scenery at every turn and twist of the course. The hilly Donegal landscapes and Autumn weather are major players in the unpredictable outcome over 6 brutal stages. For details on 2019 entry, visit: extremenorthevents.com/tuff-inish-adventure-race-copy

Cat Sutherland is a freelancer writer who’s happiest when outdoors and taking on adventurous exploits, which often involve bikes and plenty of miles to ride.
Website: thetrailangel.com
Instagram: @cat_sutherland

Johny Cook is an adventure sports photographer based in Scotland
Website: johnycook.com
Instagram: @johny.cook

Produced in partnership with Grangers.

With a heritage spanning more than 80 years and a passion for providing unrivalled protection, Grangers is a British company trusted by active outdoor and sports people around the globe including world-class explorers, climbers, survivalists and everyday adventurers.

Grangers produces superior-performing PFC-free aftercare, which includes tent, gear and technical clothing cleaning and waterproofing solutions.

The first aftercare brand in the world to earn bluesign® system approval in 2007, Grangers remains as committed to sustainability and the environment as it does to delivering unrivalled product protection.

The bluesign® system checks the environmentally-aware credentials of an entire production chain, resulting in a product completely free from harmful substances and processes.

Grangers Tent + Gear Repel is a spray-on waterproofing treatment suitable for use on all outdoor gear and equipment.

Grangers Wash + Repel Clothing 2 in 1 is specially formulated to restore the water-repellent finish of all technical fabrics and provide superior cleaning in a single wash.

For more information visit grangers.co.uk or follow them @grangersofficial

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