The Old Ghost Ultra – A Definitive Racer’s Guide

Update June 2025: I wrote this post a few years ago, and some things (but not many) have changed. After having a few people ask me some OGU questions, I decided to update what is still (noting my bias) the definitive guide for racing the Old Ghost Ultra.

I’ve raced the Old Ghost Ultra a few times now, and my entire contribution to the race has consisted of undying proclamations of my perennial man-crush on race director Phil Rossiter. A buddy (thanks, Jamie!) suggested that I might have something slightly more productive to offer and that I should write a race guide in the spirit of Matt Bixley’s famous Kepler guide. While I can’t guarantee how useful this will be, I decided to spend a few hours jotting down a few of my thoughts anyway – hopefully it proves useful to someone.

Is it Achievable for Mortals?

Having been at OGU since the beginning, I’ve obviously had lots of people over the years reach out and ask for advice. Many times, that request is couched in terms of “I’ve never run that far before, I have no idea if I can actually do it.” My younger son and daughter-out-of law raced OGU in 2025, having never raced ultras before. In fact, other than a circa 30km training run, both of them had done nothing more than a half marathon. They’re young, so they have age on their side, but the one thing they have that ensured their success is determination. There was never any doubt in their mind that they could complete the race. (Just quietly, there’s not much more emotional than seeing to amazing young people cross the finish line after supporting each other through 85kms of adventuring).

That determination requirement absolutely holds for anyone entering the race. I’ve seen a handful of people DNF the race, most for legitimate medical or physical reasons. However, in any race, there are always the folks who haven’t got the “top three inches” fully dialled in and decide to pull the pin when it gets hard. Have no doubt, running 85kms, whether you do it in seven hours or seventeen, is incredibly hard and you’re going to have bad patches. But like most hard things in life, if you think you can, or you think you can’t, you’re right.

Let me put it this way: if you’re a determined individual, can go and run or walk 30kms in the hills without expiring, and are prepared to dig deep when it gets hard, you can complete this challenge. I promise. One of the beautiful things about a challenge such as the OGU is not knowing 100% that you can do it when you start out. I’ve had the privilege of seeing some people cross the finish line at the event who had no certainty that they’d get there – folks without running pedigree, folks who are overweight or unfit, folks who had battled physical or mental challenges.

So if you’re on the fence and unsure about it all, throw a little bit of caution to the wind and commit. There are lots of people who will tell you that you’re crazy, and maybe they’re right, but there are also a couple of thousand people who, over the past decade, have been changed by the experience of the OGU.

The race briefing

The race briefing occurs the night before the race. It’s a classic and, since it’s compulsory, you’re all going to be there anyway. Just in case anyone thought it was OK to miss a race briefing, the Old Ghost one is the most entertaining hour or so you’ll spend the night before a race. Be there. If you’ve never come across the WTLI Index, consider the OGU briefing an educational hour or so.

Dinner

So many decisions. The race briefing starts at 6 pm, and gear check happens between 1 and 5 pm. You’re options are to have an early dinner and then skedaddle back to the briefing, OR have dinner after the briefing. You do you, but just remember you have a ridiculously early start the next morning, and you’re not going to sleep well anyway. Personally, I always grab a quick dinner at 5 pm, head to the race briefing and then back home to fail epicly to get a decent sleep before the race.

Start Line Bus

What is better than getting up at 3:30 am to jump on a bus that smells of fear and Deep Heat? The bus trip is an exercise in nervous tension, and it’s always a humorous affair (albeit that no one appreciates the humour given the nerves they’re trying to quell).

Most importantly, parking at the start line is virtually non-existent and being able to sit in the bus and close your eyes is a nice way to relax (ish!) before the start. Again, horses for courses, but all things being equal, it’s far better to bus to the start line than any other option.

Having said that, a number of people have threatened to run from Lyell back to Mokohinui the night before the race and then turn around at the start line and run back. No one has yet done it, but if you’re keen, hit me up!

Gear

Gear choices are subjective. That said, some people like to gain the counsel of others before making choices, so here are my thoughts:

• Shoes – I’ve run the Old Ghost seven ten times now, and I’ve worn road shoes every time. Bear in mind that this is a biking track and hence reasonably smooth. It’s also reasonably hard, and I’ve always felt road shoes were better suited to the event. I’ve never felt I was lacking traction at all. As always, make your own choices; I’m only one data point. The trail is harder than you’d expect, and you’ll want as much cushioning as possible.
• First 20km and Dry Feet – If you’re careful, and it’s not been a wet year, you can technically get to the first aid station with dry socks. To do so, however, you’ll have to maneuver gingerly around puddles and run-offs and will likely annoy the folks running behind you. If you’re smart (and not masochistic), you’ll have lubed your feet anyway, so my advice would be not to worry about keeping your feet dry.
• Compulsory gear – The name says it all. Don’t be the dick who needs to be helicoptered off the course because you’ve not bought the requisite gear and have hypothermia. Yes, thus far we’ve been lucky and the race has been held in really good conditions. Generally speaking, we’ve been lucky with the weather at OGU, but 2024 showed just how cold and wet this region can be. It’s an alpine race, run in isolated and exposed conditions, so obey the rules! That said, lightweight gear is fine, so long as your jacket is seam-sealed, you can get away with an ultra-lightweight shell. A buff is enough to meet the minimum for head covering, and it works well. I’m not a big trucker’s cap sort of guy, but every year I wear a cap for the Old Ghost, for some reason it’s a race that suits caps – who knows why? Famous last words, but I have never worn more than a running tee shirt, but I am 100% confident that one day I’ll need all my gear and, to be honest, while you might think all the stuff is heavy, you’ll never notice it on the trail.
• Nutrition – Again, this is totally subjective. That said, the aid stations at OGU are really good, so you could comfortably rely on liquid calories in your race vest. Personally, I go with Tailwind and just have the odd lolly at aid stations. Best not to do anything you’re not used to doing on race day.
• Race vest – I own a company that makes outdoor gear. Despite that, and the fact that we don’t make race vests, I actually use another company’s race vest for OGU. They’re light, tight and have a gazillion pockets. It’s not a must-have, but if you have some spare cash, invest in one.
• Poles – I’ve never used poles at OGU, but the legendary Bernard Robinson, who has beaten me every year, does, so that goes to prove that I’m not a very fast learner. What I will say is that you need to be comfortable moving fast with poles if you’re going to have them. I’d suggest they’re probably only useful from Stern Valley on. If you’re a Euro skimo God who was born using poles, have at it. If you’ve not used them before, I’d advise not bothering.
• GPS – Everyone uses one, and every single one measures wrong. OGU has trail markers counting down every kilometre to the end (and, if you’re like me, you’ll try and ignore them since they become a bit demoralising). Don’t obsess over your watch; find other things to look at. Oh, and really ignore them in the last few km, Phil and the Old Ghost Trail building team are messing with your head.
• Chafing – Is real. Vaseline, Gurney Goo or your mum’s lard. Whatever works for you, smother it on well.
• Drop bags – I never do, many people swear by them. If you want to pick something up at halfway, go for your life, but just remember it has to be flown in and retrieved by helicopter, so consider whether you really need to.
• Aid stations – If you’re gunning for a time, aid stations are where you can lose a heap of precious seconds. My personal strategy is to never sit down and, beyond a few seconds finding out what’s happening at the front of the race, I make my aid station stops very short (a minute or two at most). The reality is that the only sitting down that is net beneficial is at the finish line; everything else is counter-productive. The year I did the Leadville Miler, there was a woman sitting down with 60km to go, having her hair and makeup done – my race photos may not have been as attractive as hers, but this is a footrace, not a beauty competition (thankfully)

The race itself

Start – More technical than it sounds, you have some strategy to think about here. The first kilometre and a half is flat/downhill and pretty wide. If you’re gunning for a good time (say sub nine hours), it pays to go a little faster here than you would otherwise to avoid congestion when you hit the singletrack and the first of the bridges a couple of km in. If you’re ambling and just after a finish (go you!), then enjoy the chance to slowly get into a rhythm and let the others run off in the distance. Every year, someone makes the mistake of going way too fast in the first few km (most entertainingly, my oldest son trying to chase Martin Guffari a few years ago). I’m not at the pointy end, so can’t give you advice if you’re trying to win, but I can certainly give you advice that will make your day less hellish – and pacing yourself at the start is a key determinant for that.

County Hill (3km) – Squadrun founder and everyone’s buddy Ali Pottinger once renamed this hill without the “O”, and it stuck. It’s short, but it’s also sharp. It also comes within a few km of the start before you’ve really settled into a rhythm. A couple of times I’ve stepped off the trail going up County Hill to let others pass. Both times my son has passed by, looked at me and asked me if I’m serious. On both of those occasions, I ended up finishing with him at the end. What this tells you is that:

• Sometimes Old Bulls can teach Young Bulls a thing or two
  Walking County Hill isn’t likely to crush your OGU ambitions. Relax, it’s still early

If you’re the sort of person who prefers to jog up hills, go for your life. But don’t think you need to run it or else your entire race will be over – you’ve still got 82,000 metres or so to go.

County Hill to Specimen Point (3km to 17km)  – This section is nicely runnable, and it’s dark for much of the way, so there’s nothing to sidetrack you. By about 5km, you should have settled into your rhythm and have found a group of runners of similar pace. The likelihood is that you’ll be with these folks for the next few hours, so make sure you say hello. In this section, you can somewhat glide, and it can’t be underestimated how much energy you can save by choosing a good pace bunch and letting others set the tempo.

Be careful – I invariably roll my ankle in this section. It’s actually quite rough (comparatively speaking), and you’re in the dark. Agai,n you’re balancing risk and reward. If you’re looking to break a record, you might have to put caution to the wind here, but if you’re aiming to finish unbroken, think about foot placement.

If you’re feeling over-extended in this section, you’re probably going too hard and should button off. That said, and as something of a counter to the “go easy in the first quarter” strategy, if you want to set a PB in the OGU, this is where you stake your claim. Five minutes faster in the first 20km can miraculously turn into 45 minutes faster overall. You don’t want to overdo it and blow, but if you know your body, this is the section where you can get a bit closer to the edge. Base rules:

• If you just want to finish, this leg should be run conservatively. You should be able to have a reasonable conversation with your running mates (which probably means you’ll be trying to psych each other out about expected finish times)
• If you’re looking to set a PB and want to give what is possible a nudge, then feel free to go a bit harder here. Not anaerobic, but ever so slightly uncomfortable
• If you’re Ruth Croft or Matt Flaherty ,then you sure as hell don’t need any advice from me.

Specimen Point to Stern Valley (17km to 42km) – Anyone who has done a road marathon will tell you that the second half feels WAY different from the first half. The same goes for the roughly marathon distance from the start of OGU to Stern Valley. The second half of what is the first half of the race (maybe the second quarter is a better way of putting it) feels longer than it is. Fatigue starts to hit here.

From Specimen Point, you continue on some lovely single-track and wind your way through lovely podocarp forest (that you’ll likely totally ignore). Things get a bit strung out in this section, and you’ll tend to be running on your own or in smaller groups than at the start. Watch your footing since the hand-cut timbers that help bikers with drainage sometimes stick out a bit. It’s a section to regroup and ensure you’re keeping hydrated (since almost everyone gets a little bit forgetful on the nutrition front in the first hour or two of the race.)

Ideally, you wouldn’t walk any of this section, but for the past handful of years I’ve done a lot of walking here. That just goes to show that I’m old and sad and lacking in determination. Self-criticism aside, I’ve managed to run finish times of 9 1/2 hours that included a bunch of walking in this section, so, like all things, be strategic – if your legs tell you they need a break, listen to them.

At about the 30km mark, things start heading u,p and you begin the climb to Solemn Saddle. The climb to Hanging Judge looks worse than it is, so don’t be demoralised when you see it. Just keep a steady pace and you’ll be fine. This is an area where individual strengths come to the fore. I’ve seen strong road runners do really well until here and then suffer as the course heads uphill. On the other hand, many trail runners who don’t like the flat only come into their own when the trail heads verty. Either way, the section is fairly runnable, but unless you’re in the elite camp, you probably don’t need to get stressed too much about walking extended sections of it. The scenery is pretty spectacular,r and it’s a nice place to catch your breath.

If you’re like me, you’ll start getting depressed at this stage and tell yourself that you’re doing far worse than you would like to have. You’ll look down the trail and see no one and be certain that you’re coming in last place. All those nuggets of self-doubt will creep up on you, but you just need to push on and keep going.

Once over Solemn Saddle, you still have a few kilometres till Stern Valley – don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re already there. You’ve got the descent of the Boneyard (smile for the photographer!), the lakes to run past and then a few kilometres (which I always find interminably long) till the aid station.

You’re halfway into the race at this point and starting to tire, so don’t overdo things. It’s easy to inadvertently trip up and bruise your body and confidence. Take these few kilometres to have a think about what you want to achieve at the aid station and what you need to do. Suss out your nutrition replenishment strategy and anything you need to get from your drop bag. The aid station crew will have your drop bag ready and waiting for you, so be prepared.

Stern Valley to the Bushline Skyline Steps (42km to 51km) – You’re now over halfway through the race, so either you’re feeling good having “broken the back of it,” or you’re wondering about your life choices and contemplating having a quiet pity party. Good news: in the OGU, there is pretty much no bailout option, so unless you’re really sick or really injured, you’re going to have to keep putting one foot in front of the other until the end. The sooner you get going, the sooner the pain will be over, so have at it.

After crossing the bridge just after Stern Valley, you’ve got around 9kms until the infamous Skyline Steps, what used to mark the start of the infamous Skyline Steps. In theory, 9kms is easy and untaxing. In practice you have 40+ kms in your legs and you’re quietly freaking out about what is soon to come.

I’m guilty of having walked much of this section, even the year I finished with a time a smidgen over eight hours. That goes to show that:

• I’m a bit of a wuss and should dig deeper
• It’s a long ultra, and having a bit of a walk on occasion won’t massively impact your overall time

Some tricky bits are soon to come, and this section is actually very picturesque,e so conserve some energy, enjoy some of the exciting food you picked up from the Stern Valley aid station and prepare for what comes next.

The Skyline Steps (51km but feels like its own marathon) – A few steps, huh? What could be hard about that? The Skyline Steps were cunningly designed so that every single step has a different rise and depth. What this means is that the organisers have gone to huge pains to ensure, through robust scientific assessment and analysis, that every single body type will have muscle cramps induced into it at some stage ascending the steps. In the defence of said steps (who, after all, are there to avoid a very steep climb), they only last a little while and the view at the top is worth it.

In 2025, the track was rerouted, meaning that you no longer have the pleasure of walking up the cramp-inducing Skyline Steps. Instead, you have a handful of switchbacks to navigate before coming out on the top.

Skyline StepsThe Ridgeline to Ghost Lake Hut (51km to 55km) – Immediately after the point where the steps used to be, there is arguably the most technical section of the entire race – a km or so of narrow, exposed, rocky, rough terrain. Be careful since if you’re going to have a fall, this is where it will happen. There’s also some short, sharp climbs here, so be prepared to suffer a bit. Soon you’ll lift your eyes and in front of you, far, far in the distance and seemingly miles higher in elevation, lies Ghost Lake Hut. You’ll wonder how on earth you get from here to there, but trust me, there’s a way.

After the rocky section (which even includes a bit of descent!), you’ll start the climb to Ghost Lake Hut. It’s fairly incessant and consists of a bunch of hairpin turns as you gradually gain elevation. Rumour has it that the section is runnable, but mortal souls back where I run haven’t ever seen proof of it. Just get through the section knowing that there’s Coke on offer at Ghost Lake. After climbing in open country, you have the change to climbing in dense bush. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise – it still sucks. You’ll pop out at the top of the climb and run down to Ghost Lake itself (pristine, much?) before another small climb in the bush up to Ghost Lake Hut.

Participants in the first-ever OGU were treated to Whitebait sandwiches at Ghost Lake Hut. It’s still talked about, but in those hushed tones that indicate it may be true or may simply be an urban legend. These days, you’ll have to make do with jet planes, chips and lots and lots and lots of Coke. The 55 km or so justifies imbibing whatever gutrot you desire.

Ghost Lake Hut to Lyell Saddle (55km to 68km) – The climb from the hut up and over the ridgeline is one of the iconic sections of the course. It’s not overly steep, but it is pretty hard underfoot. If you’re in any state to actually run, you’ll enjoy the well-cushioned shoes you chose. Stop for a second at Heaven’s Door – it really is an incredible viewpoint. Then continue up to the highest point of the course,e where a shelter (with mobile phone reception, no less!) is to be found.

From here, you’re downhill all the way. Firstly, on exposed ridge and then, as you get lower and below the bushline, in perfect West Coast beech forest. There are a few drainage ditches and rocky patches here, and you’ll be tired, so watch your footing and try to remember to lift your feet.

This section is your chance to use up any energy you’ve saved, and it feels really good to be able to run here. The variety of factors that come into play in an ultra will determine whether you actually can or no,t but if you’re going for a good time, you can make up significant chunks of it here on the descent. If you are racing against the clock, consider not stopping at the Lyell Aid Station. You’re less than 20km from the end, and that 20km is all downhill.

Lyell Saddle to Lyell (68km to 85km) – A section well known for its hilarity. I’ve had years where I’ve felt strong and have run fast the entire way. I’ve also had years where buddies have wet themselves at the sight of me suffering regular full-body cramps and lying in the middle of the track, rigid. How you feel at this point comes down to training, race pace, nutrition and a bit of luck. Either way, there’s nothing you can do about it. Only an arsehole would tell you that the reason you’re physically incapable of running is that you went out too hard – people want solutions, not problems!

All I can say is to deal with whatever the race throws at you. If you feel good, then run faster and take precious seconds off. If you feel bad, then drink something, eat something and remember that you paid for this!

The section is lovely running. Predominantly smooth and soft with only one or two rockier sections. You can open up here and really carve it up (well, maybe you can. See above)

The last few kms are deceptive. You’ll likely have been looking for the countdown km markets for a while now, and in the last few kilometres there are a bunch of signs that can be mistaken for these markers. I’ve been guilty of getting ahead of myself and thinking I only had a km to go when in fact, I had three. Suffice it to say that when you can hear the music and commentary at the Lyell DOC camping ground, you’re actually close.

The final few metres include, for good measure, a short climb and a barrier that you need to pivot 90 degrees to get through. After 85 kilometres or so your hip flexors will very likely protest at being asked to do this, but don’t worry, you’re 20 metres from the end.

The finish line – Done! Make sure you stop your watch, make sure you give Phil a big hug and make sure you make a beeline for the beer (or ginger beer for those who prefer). It’s hard to desire the feelings at the finish line. I’m writing this in June, and it still gives me goosebumps thinking about those people coming across the finish line in tears of pain and tears of exultation. What you’ve just done is incredible – true, it’s doable for most people but most people don’t do it. You’re one of a very small handful of people who have heard the call, faced the fear and done it anyway.

Feel free to drop in any questions, thoughts or feedback, and I’ll edit the document to suit. Enjoy, and see you at the race briefing!