The Wilderness Adventure RaceAdventure Race World ChampionshipScotland 24th May – 3rd JuneThis was a harsh, cruel and gruelling race. Seven days …non-stop
A Rhum do…
Missing the cut-off was gutting; a real low point. Especially as I had fallen heavily onto my arm during the micro nav, had felt a tear or click and feared a fracture. Half the teams in the field missed this cut-off, which resulted in us being routed onto a shorter trekking route for the next stage to T2. It seemed totally unfair that competent teams were being short routed. We’d paddled hard for 12 or more hours, done all the micro nav in a swift time and portaged strongly. With hindsight it was a blessing for many teams as only 5 teams finished the original full route, and it soon became a race of several different classes. Highs and Lows Knoydart revealed it self to be majestic; the scenery was stunning and the weather blue and sunny. It also meant that we arrived at T2, the second transition, quite well up the field. Media teams photographed us but quickly lost interest once they knew we weren’t on the full course. This next leg consisted of 138km of mountain biking, with plenty of time to get my head around how we would spend the remainder of the week, including our mission to finish well up on the ‘short route’. The first 22km of easy tarmac should have given us chance to talk but we weren’t flowing too well having not slept properly for 30 hours, so a quick snooze in the afternoon sun, and a pot of tea at the Tomdoun Hotel had us revived and back in the saddle. Navigating well, and riding some nice trails we headed over to Glen Affric and into Monday night. Darkness fell on the high traverse, and now with several teams around us, I was on the look out for a bivi spot. I was surprised when Dave emerged from a small workman’s hut, (a three star bivi) to announce I wasn’t full of other racers. We quickly bedded down for our first proper sleep.
Cold Grey Dawn Three hours later, just as it got light we had several kilometres of cold downhill track prior to a waterfall jump. We were all cold, especially Louise, but the quick splash did wonders to wake me up and clean the body of two days grime. Then back on the bikes to a huge tyrolean rope crossing just as the weather deteriorated. We had to queue for a short while but it gave us the first chance to glean info from other teams and I deduced we were doing OK for ‘mere short course racers’. The next section contained some unrideable ‘rideable’ tracks back over wild terrain including hike-a-bike sections to Glen Moriston, but it was easy compared to last year. The poor weather continued and it’s an indication of things being tough when Dave announces his toes are cold so the final few kms of tarmac were done at cruising pace prior to arrival at ‘The World’s Most Impressive Corner Shop’. Who Ate all the Pies?
Several kilometres of dark wet road walking followed, which had been re-branded ‘Nordic Walking’ due to the issue and involvement of Leki poles, and I guess a fair amount of sponsorship money. The boring road walk to the cancelled canyoning stage (due to deluge water conditions) was punctuated by a novel sleep in the Ladies toilets at Foyer village. With Dave and myself wedged against the door, the four of us nestled into a five foot by four foot room (no wc only a basin!) After an hour or so someone tried to open the door from outside, but it wouldn’t budge. American voices a could be heard; “You guys sleeping in there?” A slight pause followed until Dave replied “Yes, use the gents” in a truly Monty Pythonsque moment.
Dark Wet becomes Light Grey Wet
No way. There is a café, and showers, but no where really to camp, and so once again we have a bit of a low. Once again into transition mode we found just enough soft ground on the verge of the forest track to get our three person tent up ( ideal for four adventure racers of course) and the kit boxes arranged outside for the first pit-stop in around 24 hours. Tent up, brew on, food cooked, decisions to be made. It was now apparent that the course was taking a very severe toll on all of the teams and even the race leaders were several hours behind the estimated schedule. Many teams were starting to drop stages in favour of time penalties and John tried to explain these options to us. It’s not in our nature to miss things out, (we finished top ranking team on the full shorter course) and with the ‘ropes’ stage to follow, inset into another big bike and trek, we set off after another 3-4 hour ‘camp’. Once on the road again into the late evening, I was wondering if we were destined to be nocturnal. The weather cleared at little as we biked off road to ‘ Glen Bogle Castle’, in the company of the Irish AR Denny team and exchanged a few stories. They had survived so far on the full route, but evidently their race has been such a tail of survival and everyone was hanging in there regardless. Privately, I felt we were in better shape, and wonder just how tough the full Knoydart trek had been.
More Ups and the Down
Somewhere it got light and we descended into another dawn and a long plod out on a hard rough surfaced stony track… the low point for me here, at least. The feet were drying out and starting to cut up. We needed to sleep and aimed to do so back at the bikes but when we get there the midges out for breakfast, so ‘no joy’, back on the bikes for another 30km to T6 at Dalwhinie. Once again we were riding great biking tracks, despite the occasional sandy surface, through wild terrain deep in the heart of Ben Alder Forest. The weather was now good and I remember being ridiculously pleased having ridden the last easy 10km along Loch Ericht without falling off my bike asleep.
Suitable re-freshed, tea-ed up and dried out, but without me being able to sleep, we set off on the long paddle. The head winds weren’t too bad and we anticipated to sleep somewhere on route. 20km of paddling necessitated only a 10 minute snooze before pulling off the water at the far end of the loch. By finally acknowledging I’m asleep on my feet I said; “Look for a bivi spot John … got to lie down.” Fortunately, we had the bivi bag, mat and blanket in our boat and I fought extreme sleepiness to get them out of the hatches, get into the bag, and simply mutter; ”In …get in.. sleep” in between snores as Dave and Louise arrived. We’d nearly gone over the edge…. Waking alert, perhaps three hours later, we were chilled, damp and clammy in our kayak gear as we got out in the feeble early morning sun. The only thing to do was to get moving. In the cold light of day it was evident that we were a 2km from the station and another half a km to the next Loch, so my assumption of late last night was right. As we struggled into action, a racer towing a kayak came running past, stripped to the waste and sweating profusely. Was I still hallucinating? Speechless, I nodded in wonderment. Later, I learnt it was Phil Scarf, of the planetfear team, probably chasing the next cut off around mid-morning. Perhaps we should have stopped for sleep a bit earlier. Highs and Lows….Again The Rannoch Moor paddle was a highlight of the trip. It was certainly something you’ll do only once in a lifetime, and even then and despite the pain of last night, we could appreciate the course planner’s sadistic logic of including it. I was kept busy navigating some tricky lochs with three inter-locking maps sections perched on my spray deck. The compass was out, bearings taken and ever so cautiously, too, as this could go horribly wrong and I didn’t want the team portaging more than we needed. Dave was also paddling as strongly as ever in the front of my boat, just like the stoker he is, and so I took some photo opportunities of the team and mountains around me.
Heave Ho
T7, situated bizarrely on the side of the busy A82, in the huge expanse of Rannoch Moor, was an organised melee of kayaks, kit boxes and bikes; another slick transition, was required. This we did but our bikes weren’t there, as they had been sent onto T8; I guess we had mis-led the logistics team, and it was an indication of our relatively slow paddle stage. No point in being angry. The transition staff were great, dis-believing how laid back we were about it, but I did smile wrily when he said they would take just 15 mins to be driven from Kinlochleven, We did enjoy a 45 minute additional chill/snooze, read our messages from family and friends and prepared for the final stages.
The Beginning of the End. T7 and the A82 marked the beginning of the end. As a consequence of missing the cut- off we were directed to ride a short section of the road and then West Highland Way to T8 at Kinlochleven. After that we would ride further on the WHW to T9 at the foot of Ben Nevis. On the plus side, our rapidly decaying feet won’t have to cope with too much trekking ….only The Ben.
Descending into Kinlochleven we passed a few teams on foot. These were the teams finishing the full Glencoe trek. They looked exhausted and foot sore. Descent on a bike was a luxury …’Surely my arm isn’t broken?’ T8, outside the Ice Factor, in the village of Kinlockleven was hot and bustling. Race rules dictated we could not have access to or boxes, so the local Co-op supplied our needs and the local shop …(for local people and West Highland Way backpackers?) sold me the world’s most expensive gas canister. I must have a brew at the next transition under the Ben. Out of T8 within 20 minutes of arriving, a ‘granny ring climb’ up the road to Mamore Lodge spread us out at little. From here, the WHW transverses around into Glen Nevis and onto Fort William. Other teams appeared on the track; ‘planetfear.com’ and Salt and Pepper passed us, both being technically better, and fitter, riders than us. For a while it felt like a race track, but some bizarre moments reminded me that we were rather tired, such as watching John’s backside and thinking it had lost weight, only to find it belonged to a female member of another team. Thanks, Andrea! This stage began to drag. I was pleased with my riding both because of the pain I was enduring, but also due to my bike riding skills having improved over the winter. There had been so much good technical riding in this race that you just had to keep riding it as walking would have taken twice as long. Another High … another Low My rear rim had shredding due to heat and wear and tear. A strip or metal one third the circumference was arcing away from the rim and the tyre was blown. A complete disaster, and just when I was praying for a good smooth descent into Glen Nevis. John tore away the scarp metal and I started running with the bike. There was nothing else you could do to repair it. The others followed a short distance behind. Having run a few kilometres of tricky single track, the team re-grouped at the start of the descent into the Glen.
Heaven and Hell T9 was heaven with potential hell lurking above; a last supper, a staging post, and then an endless plod all the way up to 1344 metres and the highest point in Britain. And all from just above sea level and a place you wouldn’t normal choose to start from. Sadly, a few teams arrived and decided to cycle straight back down the Glen to a late evening finish at Fort William, accepting the 15 hour penalty of not climbing The Ben. They would miss savouring the delights of The Carn Mor Dearg Arete.
It was a bizarre moment; we’re we really up to the full traverse? Opening the metal door there was the first grey light of dawn. Still very windy with patchy cloud but crucially no rain we set off on the traverse. We moved well in the grey dawn down into the wind which threatened to blow us off the ridge and over into Coire Leis. Anxiously, I looked back, awaiting any rain which would need us to escape over into the coire, if possible. As we rounded the traverse the wind became on our backs. Frequently we stopped to check on the ‘sleepometer’ but all was well, or so I thought. Once on the path, I voiced the fact that we could finish before 8:00am which would mean breaking the full seven day time limit for the race. Dave’s competitive spirit kicked in and he led the jog and shuffle downward. The path wasn’t as endless as it has been previously, and we passed several large groups of early starters (probably three peaks charity walkers) all looking clean and shiny with the first beads of perspiration on their brow. Such a contrast to our condition, but my thoughts and emotions drifted skyward along with them to rest quite rightly up there and ‘out there’ just where they belong.
Postscript.
Of the 49 teams who started, only 5 finished the full route. We finished 20 overall, and 32 teams completed either the full or shorter course. Five teams were unranked for non-completion of a stage. 12 more teams withdrew due to injury or exhaustion. The drop out rate was high early on due to sea kayaking. Out of 15 or more British teams we ranked 3 rd, for the second year in succession. I do feel disappointed at not being able to continue on the full course, especially at being short routed after only 19 hours of only one discipline. ie sea kayaking. However, I accept the organiser’s decision to stick by their published cut-offs, if only because of the enormity of the logistical operation that would have been behind it all. Sadly, we’ll just have to paddle faster next time!
Equipment Notes . I wrote some simple notes after last year’s WARC race which have been well received, and they remain valid still. The art of adventure racing is to travel light and to keep things as simple as possible…Less is More in terms of saving weight. A number of key items are worthy of a mention. Gear Notes - Use of our tent, Jetboil stoves, Real Exped Meals, tea, more tea, talk and sleep, even for a ‘camp’ of no more than 4 hours was a real good strategy. Our tent was a three person Terra Nova Hyperspace dome tent which easily sleeps four adventure racers. Being together in one tent makes a huge amount of sense; not only is it warmer, but being it is quicker to put up and being all together makes cooking, planning and decision making so much easier, if you are all together. It is also very good for morale. On a similar theme we had a four person bivi shelter, and bivi mat. Food. Lots of good quality food is essential. This year we supplemented this with ‘Allsports’ sports drinks, including protein and carbohydrate type drinks. Be careful not to ‘OD’ Clothing – less is more, but a top quality well spec’ed jacket is key. We used Montane ‘Superfly’ jackets once again as they have great hoods, pockets and cut, and perferm in the worst of conditions. We have also used OMM Kimmlieka waterproofs but didn’t get a chance to use them in the harsh conditions of this race. Rab ‘vapour-rise’ Smocks are a brilliant piece of kit and I have used several of these garments over the past five years. The smock has huge hand warmer/stash pockets accessible when on the bike or with a rucsac, and the attached hood provides easy venting and stops rain seeping down your back. Vapour-rise also breathes and performs very well over a wide range of temperatures and wind conditions and is easily ‘layered’ up. I used this and only three other garments during the whole race. (two long sleeved zip neck thermals, and a Rab Photon vest. In terms of ‘legs’ I used one pair of thermal briefs, two pairs of Lowe Alpine Power Stretch Tights, (1x ‘lite’ pair, and 1x full weight) a pair of running shorts and a pair of cycling shorts. Apart from six or seven pairs of socks this isn’t much kit really. ‘Less is More’ …. Good kit dries out quickly if layered properly, used properly and fits well. Bits and Pieces Jetboils stoves are quick and very easy as a ‘super-kettle’ - do not try to cook in them. Real Exped Meals are tasty, satisfying and convenient. Petzl Meteor III helmets are very comfortable and light to carry. Montrail Highlanders are a brilliant all round ‘long distance fell shoe’. But remember…nothing is any good if it doesn’t fit you! There are few other bits and pieces, and a few tricks of the trade learnt from hard fought experience, so if you want any more info or to discuss equipment or techniques please contact me to discuss. Joe Further info can be seen via www.sleepmonsters.com . |
Building upon our experience of the 
The two days of registration, skills testing and general prep was tedious and quite stressful, but with past experience we breezed through the kit check and testing days prior to the start. Getting bussed and ferried out to The island of Rhum was a delight, and a mini holiday itself, with the prologue composed of a sea swim, easy micro nav and pretty impressive ridge traverse of the Cullin’s of Rhum. 
Prologue day took us seven and a half hours, a sobering start, but a pleasant evening camp with plenty of food, and comfort from well our sorted kit put is a confident mood. 
The race started properly with a 65km sea kayak leg back to the main land via the island of Eigg and the Ariskaig peninsula. The mass start had been planned for slack tides but northerly head winds made the day very tough. The sea conditions were tricky with a big swell either from behind us or across us. Many boats capsized. Eventually, we aborted and portaged up the road for several miles to avoid injury and capsize. Eventually we launched into Loch Morar for a calmer evening paddle, a ‘quick’ 10km micro/night navigation, then a smooth moonlit paddle into T1 at Inverie, in the heart of Knoydart, at 0255 hrs. Stage 1 had taken nearly 19 hours, and we’d missed the first ‘cut-off’ in the race after 19hours racing. 
Adventure Racing is often described as full of highs and lows. Accepting this short route was hard. Any short route or stage penalty was not on my agenda so early in the race, but I guess the organisers had to stick to their overall logistical plan, with transitions and logistics being in such remote locations. 
“How many Samosa’s shall we have, Jo..?” “Eight !” came his reply before I could finish. The half way through his first samosa; “Order those extra three, quick, before anyone else arrives!” Hot drinks as well not only revived us but were crucial to us and the many other teams who arrived in the as we ate. We made sure everyone had cash or plastic, settled our ‘tab’ and set out renewed at surviving the stage. Highs and Lows… just another 20km of Great Glen Cycle way to go, parallel to road and Loch, but this was to be no easy cruise, but endless up and down forest road. Eventually we reached T3 at ….on Tuesday evening in heavy rain. The 138km bike leg, including the water jump and tyrolean, 12 samosas, 2 rounds of coffee, etc had taken us 27 hours. Just when you need a nice dry barn we found a waterlogged and busy transition field. 
Tri-athletes call transitions ‘the forth discipline’ and even in our bedraggled state it was tent up, brew on, food cooked, more brew, plan, the sleep for an hour. And just four hours later we are off. By leaving after 9pm we do not have to swim/kayak, only kayak 3km across Loch Ness. 
Wednesday’s dawn led us out into an endless plod through the Mondlaith mountains. All the streams were in spate and river crossings required combined team tactics and a thigh deep effort to remain upright. We took another 20-30 minute sleep before a major river crossing and noted the water level had risen again. The cloud remained low thoughout this 40km section, but steady navigation and good route choice provided interest and it felt grandly wild and rugged. An American team desperately tried to hang on to our tails, casually remarking that we tutor them in Scottish navigational techniques. We heard later that the stage was re-routed. Damp through to the skin despite five good layers, (see equipment notes) but in good spirits, surely we were due a good transition area, at T5, Laggan, late on Wednesday afternoon. 
Having dumped the bikes at Glen Bogle Castle, the trek involving the jumar and abseils was longer, higher and more time consuming than anticipated… as is often the case. Queuing for the ropes was a ‘downer’ but gave us further insight into the race and that other teams were ‘totally wreaked’. The rope technician complimented our jumaring set up; “Obviously, we have a mature team, here.” He said. “What!” 
T6 was busy with both active and retired teams. There was a sense of battle weariness and survival everywhere. Fortunately, there was enough flat dry grass to spread out, conduct a massive kit and box sorting session, and even erect the tent to dry. Once again we shunned the offer of the nearby hotel bar, remaining focused on our own patch. We ate drank and tried to sleep but now was the time to look ahead, with the kayak and ‘OPS’ outrageous Portage Stage ahead if us. Weather conditions were favourable and with the stage consisting of 65km of kayaking, including 15km of portage on road and 2km of Rannoch Moor tussocks, we set off without too much delay. Once across Rannoch Moor we would be back on the ‘West Coast’ A82 with Glencoe, Anoch Eagach and The Ben remaining between us and ‘a finish’. Over the past day or so, I had become focused on ‘a finish’ at Fort Bill, any finish under our own steam.
Retirement was not an option. Significantly, we had another major cut-off at the end of this ‘paddle’, but didn’t want to guess at how long it would take, and although we had practised our portaging skills at home in The Lake District, we knew this was the end of the beginning. 
At Dalwhinnie, whilst conducting the major clear out, drying, and feasting session, several fellow racers came to offer words of support or more substantial offerings; Anthony Emmett can across; “Now, what do you need to borrow? Carbon paddles, Dry Cags..?” Bemused by the fact that there had been a mix up with the supply of our paddling kit before the race, which had involved Anthony’s team, I could only reply; “Tea bags” as despite Dave’s sterling effort on the catering front, I couldn’t find any, again. Apparently a friendly marshal, who shall remain nameless did deposit a few golden bags on my sleep mat whilst I wasn’t looking. More valuable than Anthony’s paddles….. 
This was the start of the road portage. Alarmingly the rough track 5km down to the valley floor at Rannoch took us nearly 2 hours which didn’t bode well for the 10km up hill to Rannoch Station. Hauling loaded kayaks late into the evening on tarmac was making mincemeat of our feet and I was doggedly determined to make it to Rannoch Station before nightfall and sleep. However, darkness came, and after some very strange happenings and hallucinations I realised that we must be stumbling along at little over 2km per hour. Louise and Dave were a few hundred yards behind, but we could hear their portage trolley squeaking along, and knew they we keep going whilst we did; not a very supportive team strategy but one that worked. Pushing things to the limit without breaking body or soul, or equipment or soles, toes, etc, is the key to successful expedition adventure racing. 
Day time sleep-rested kayak towing is to be recommended over the night time sleepless version. Onto the Loch, with amazing views around us, including the well-known but unfamiliar faces of the Glencoe peaks some 20 kms away, we started an idyllic paddle in blue sky conditions. Without much discussion it was apparent that we couldn’t make the next cut-off; this would oblige us to bike the West Highland way to Glen Nevis and the trek over The Ben. We would miss the traverse of the Glencoe peaks, but at least the majority of our feet wouldn’t have thanked us for it. Glencoe can wait another day. 
The actual portage over the rough stuff was relatively easy. A combination of brains and brawn, and picking of the best line is the key. Keep the momentum of the kayaks going and do not to get in the way or run over by them. Long hauling straps made the work easier. Launching back into two smaller lochs, and with the top of a huge marquee tent away to our left as a navigation reference point and the hum and dizziness of traffic on the A82, we showed an American team some nifty navigation and doggedly good portage skills into T7. 
Riding the A82 for several kilometres, with Dave acting as ‘rouleur’ out front and spurred by fast moving traffic, it felt like we had entered into race mode for the final day. It was such a contrast to the last day of slow progress, the riding was quite absorbing and the view of The Glencoe peaks tremendous. A swift hike-a-bike climb over The Devils Staircase was followed by a rough bouldery descent; perfectly enjoyable on a single day out but very tiring for us. My left forearm was now agony. Kayaking had been bearable but the constant jarring of the bike was best suffered by squeezing the hand tight on the bars and pulling hard to clamp the muscles and bones solid. A diet of painkillers all week had got me this far. 
Setting off to ride some more forest single track I felt a strange resistance from my back wheel. The second pedalling attempt had a bigger resistance. I leapt off as a hiss became a loud bang, swearing loudly whilst the others thought we were being shot at! 
John had a cunning plan, just like the pro-MTB guide he is; “Strip the tyre and tube and I’ll ride it on the rim.”“ “What.. you mad?…OK!” So John rode my naked rear wheel for 2km down to the valley bottom. It was surprising how long it lasted before buckling and then destroying itself. By mistake, or a chance of fate, John was wearing running shoes whilst the rest of us had stiff cycling shoes. Borrowing John’s shoes I set of running whilst the team stripped my bike into bits, lashed it to their sacs and rode after me. 6km of forest track reminded me that my legs felt quite good apart from a knee strain from a slip days ago in Knoydart, when I broke a trekking pole. I had a possible broken forearm and now I had a trashed bike… Things come in threes. At least I was well warmed up for the ascent of The Ben. Apparently Team Cotswold had a major mechanical disaster as the broke a derailleur, or two! 
‘Direct Dave’ led the way. It went dark. It was steep. It was windy. Fortunately it was dry with broken cloud. Sleep deprivation manifested itself in a stumbling pace as if at altitude, overcome purely by a desire to top out and finish in style. The direct line up open mountainside took us to the tourist path at 1250 metres and onto the summit and shelter. John and Louise had never been up The Ben. 
The weather was still touch and go. In the shelter we stuffed ourselves with food, geared up in helmets, gloves and overtrousers and agreed a 10 minute snooze. 
It became fully light as we completed the traverse to the far end, the final electronic timing box, and a true sense of completion. Here, we discussed phoning HQ and offering to bring in the timing box as we were pretty sure there would be anyone behind us. The chances of getting a swift ‘yes’ were dismissed so we continued down into the Allt a’Mhuilin, and near to the CIC hut, and then traversed up and over to ‘Halfway Lochan and the normal descent path. I had a strange mellowing sense of completion without any tiredness at all. It all felt quite normal just like many of the days I have descended of this mountain with friends and clients, just a bit more mellow and unhurried. 
That’s it really. We joked and cruised down the last few miles of tarmac to finish comfortably at 0745 on a Saturday morning. A big banner finish was matched by a lone finish marshal, ironically, John’s wife Louise. James Thurlow timed us in and we were back to the reality of a shower, buffet breakfast in a travel lodge, and back to our accommodation for an afternoons rest. 
It was a hard race. Race positions and times do not portray the true finishing positions. We are most proud of our style.