There’s a specific kind of restlessness that sets in around 5pm on a good-weather day when you’re stuck at a desk. Don’t get me wrong, I rarely spend a full week sitting at my desk, something I am eternally grateful for, but still, on days where it’s gorgeous outside and you’re in the second half of summer, the pull of the outdoors is all that bit stronger. It’s like you can feel the evening happening without you, that low gold light hitting the tops of buildings, the kind that’s gone by the time you’ve fought your way out of the city. Most days you let it go. This one, I didn’t.
I’d been sat on the idea of getting back to Macclesfield Forest for a few weeks. It’s the place I did the bulk of my training in the run-up to Transylvania (see article here). I hadn’t been back since the race, but the pile of Mammut trail kit that’s sitting on top of my wardrobe has remained in my daily eyeline, just itching to be taken back out. So that’s what I did, straight off the back of work, catching the train from Manchester to Macclesfield, and chasing whatever light was left.
There’s something I like about starting a run this way – no faff, no driving, just a bag on your back and a train ticket. Wanting to maximise time spend outside, I skipped the office toilet kit change and hopped on a train immediately, opting for nature’s changing room, the leaves of a pine tree.
Macclesfield from Manchester Piccadilly is a short hop, about twenty minutes, and by the time I stepped off the train the light had already dropped a shade – that thick, syrupy early-evening colour that makes everything look better than it probably should. The trip from the station to the forest edge is short enough that you’re barely warmed up before the trees swallow you, which suited me fine. I wanted as much of that low sun through the pines as I could get before it disappeared. Komorebi.
Flashback impressions of the Aenergy Trail All Mountain Low came almost immediately on the first bit of loose, root-strewn climbing. Macclesfield Forest isn’t technical in the way the Carpathians are, but it’s got enough off-camber, wet-rock, pine-needle-over-mud terrain to expose a shoe that’s all show. These weren’t. The underfoot feel is firm without being harsh and you get genuine ground feedback on the rockier sections, but there’s enough cushioning that an hour-plus out doesn’t start to hurt through the arches or achilles. The grip held on the greasy stuff too, the kind of weathered smooth rocks that usually have you windmilling an arm for balance.
I’d brought the Aenergy Ultra Carbon Poles along with me too. As someone who is first and foremost a road runner, using poles is simply quite fun. Turns out they’re pretty useful when not running on 0% gradient asphalt too. On the steeper drag up through the forest’s high loop, they turned what would normally be a grind into something with actual rhythm, taking a chunk of the work off my legs and letting me hold a pace I wouldn’t have managed on foot alone. They’re absurdly light for how stiff and stable they feel underhand; there’s none of the flex or wobble you get with cheaper poles that makes you doubt them on a technical descent. By the second climb I was reaching for them instinctively, which is usually the sign a bit of kit has actually earned its place in the bag rather than just riding along in it.
The Aenergy Trail Vest 12 was also doing its job so quietly I kept forgetting it was there, which is the highest compliment a running vest can get. No bounce, no shifting, no need to stop and re-cinch anything after the first kilometre – it sat exactly where I put it on, fully loaded with poles, a soft flask, a spare layer, and energy bars. Stability like that matters more than people give it credit for; it’s the difference between thinking about your kit and thinking about the trail.
The route I know from training loops out toward the reservoir before climbing back through the denser part of the forest up to Shutlingsloe. By the time I hit that final climb the sun was properly going, that last thirty minutes where the light turns almost horizontal and everything in the trees gets streaked orange. I stopped for all of about ninety seconds to actually look at it, which for a training run is basically a religious experience.
Coming back down through the conifer trees as the temperature dropped, the Aenergy TR HS Hooded Jacket finally got to prove itself to me again. It wasn’t quite the subzero temperatures it endured in Transylvania but there was a nippiness in the air. It’s a solid jacket, incredibly light, possesses a 3-layer Pertex Shield and looks gorgeous. The Silver Sage colourway is spot on.
It also breathes far better than a jacket that packs this small has any right to; no clamminess, no need to peel it straight back off two minutes later, which is normally how these things go. By the time I hit the treeline and the last of the light, it had done exactly what I needed and nothing more, which with technical layers is all that truly matters.
I came into this whole training block expecting good kit, because Mammut makes some of the best alpine gear going and you’d assume that pedigree carries over. What I didn’t expect was how little adjustment and time it took to trust it. Trail running was all quite new to me and I feel fortunate to have had the pleasure to be thrown into it with a brand like Mammut. Their latest trail collection is not just great kit for running up mountains, but for any kind of exercise, from road running, cycling, hiking. It is, at its foundation, impeccable technical clothing and footwear.
I got a late train back into Manchester with mud past my ankles and a stupid grin on, which is about as good a review as any piece of kit is going to get out of me.
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