Frank had been here a for about an hour and was unsure what to do: stay here or move on. We had a quick chat. I was keen to keep moving, as this was one of the checkpoints that you were not allowed to stay in. If you wanted to sleep you slept outside! Thomas said the temperature was dropping and would probably hit -35, we decided to leave together. After 2 hours we said our thanks and left the warm if not slightly damaged cabin.
Dropping back down onto the lake we soon got into a comfortable steady rhythm. Frank was in the lead and I needed a wee. As I was weeing away and making patterns in the snow, I noticed that Frank who was maybe 500 meters ahead, stop. Thinking he was waiting for me in case I had a problem, I hurried up, however as I caught him up I noticed that he was getting his bivi out explaining that he needed to get some sleep.
I was a little reluctant, by reluctant, I mean chicken. Sleeping out on a lake at -35 would not be pleasant, so I explained that I would carry on and probably kip later. I really just wanted to get off the lakes.
After about 3 hours I followed the trail off the lakes and into the woods. It was now daylight.
It wasn’t long before I wished I was back on the lakes. They say be careful what you wish for:- I wanted off the lakes, but the alternative was now bloody hard work and lots of small steep climbs, trail markers were few and far between and I was beginning to doubt my navigation.
It was now mid-afternoon and as I looked up I saw in front of me a monster hill, long and very steep. It was one of those that you actually stop and stare at. I stood at the bottom working out how exactly to tackle the thing.
Fortunately, I wasn’t blessed with multiple choices. I had one, climb it slowly and without stopping. I managed it, just, and as I stood on the top looking down at the thing, I heard the unmistakable sound of a snowmobile. Just as I left the summit, the snowmobile appeared. It was Mike, he got off and explained that Carmacks was about 3 miles ahead and would I like some coffee? The thought of a hot cup of coffee was tempting, but for some reason I declined. Mike said he was going on ahead a little to see if he could see anyone else, then promptly disappeared.
I carried on, came out of the woods and skirted around the rivers edge before climbing a small bank right beside a bridge. Then suddenly I was in Carmacks. Following the road that ran beside the river, a 4x4 vehicle slowed down, 2 British guys who were attempting to xc ski (cross country ski) leaned out of the window and wished me luck. I was a little confused - they either finished in record time or had for whatever reason been pulled from the race.
They were both military and had high hopes of doing well, having spent the best part of the winter training in the Cairngorms. I found out later that they had both suffered injuries.
I plodded on looking for the checkpoint when I heard a snowmobile coming up behind me. It was Mike, he told me that the checkpoint was up ahead and in someone’s house. This was followed by those famous last words, “you can’t miss it” Normally it would have been in the community hall but that was being used this year.
I thanked him and he again disappeared. I tried to speed up, all the time looking for the checkpoint, then I again spotted Mike who was now on foot and had come to show me the way - what a gent!
I arrived at the checkpoint at 17:00 and was greeted by some huge dogs - four slobbering, hairy, happy, curious dogs wagging their tails and sniffing me and my sledge. One went to cock his leg and claim the sledge as his own. I moved it quickly and Mike said “Lets get it inside”. The inside was a workshop that had now doubled up as a checkpoint. The log-burning stove had warmed the place up. It was spacious and cosy, well, as cosy as a workshop can be.
Inside was the owner and Helke, a German athlete, who had finished the 100 mile race and was now helping out.
I sat down next to the stove, removed my shoes and was presented with a very welcome bowl of moose stew and bread. It was lovely, so lovely I had another bowl.
I decided to get some sleep. After 3 hours of solid sleep I woke up and lying on the other side of the workshop was Frank. I tried to get back to sleep but failed. It was now a little after 22:00. I decided to get going, ate some more, refilled bottles and flasks and was packed and ready to leave. It was now 23:00. I had been here long enough.
As I made my way out into the frozen night I saw coming towards me another athlete, Andy. We had a quick word, shook hands and parted company.
I found the way without too much trouble - it was a pretty good track and was at one time a well-used miners track. It was, however, a bloody steep climb and I was having to work hard. It didn’t matter because I was being treated to the most spectacular display of Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights. They danced and teased their way across the night sky. So close did they seem that I actually tried to touch them with my walking pole. (Please don’t tell anyone, they will think I’m nuts!)
This fantastic display went on for ages. Unfortunately, my constant gazing up had given me neck-ache. I carried on trying not to look up - this was made a little easier by the fact that I was now entering a wooded area and it was starting to get light.
The area that I was in was beautiful, every step of the way had been the same, but now its beauty was becoming just more of the same:- dare I say it - monotonous.
The trail was exactly that, a trail, a means to an end. I had plodded uphill, downhill, along rivers and across lakes, each section between checkpoints was uniquely challenging and tough.
I was now annoyed with myself for thinking that such a beautifully tranquil place - a place that I was very fortunate to be in - was monotonous.
I switched off from trying to work out the distance to the McCabe Creek checkpoint and just got on with it, one foot in front of the other.
Dropping down onto the river, I followed the markers. There were huge chunks of ice that required quite a detour, sort of zigzagging my way through. Eventually as I neared the shoreline I caught a whiff of a log burner, then as I clambered up the bank I saw a group of wooden buildings and Mike standing in front of one smoking his pipe. He saw me and signalled me over.
As I entered the McCabe checkpoint Marianne was there. Marianne had just had a bash at the 100 mile distance and was now helping out. She kindly offered food and drinks and a place to have a sleep, as it was now a little after 14:00.
Tempting though it was to stay, I wanted to get a move on and take advantage of the daylight.
Leaving the checkpoint I had to follow the track leading down to a main road, cross it and run alongside the road for approximately 4 miles. It was now dark and I had to concentrate hard to locate the turning, which thankfully led onto some proper trail away from the road. Though I saw only one vehicle I wanted to be away from the road.
After an hour or so I noticed some horrendous overflow that had frozen. It was ‘run off’ from the side of a hill and was right across my path. Trying to get across was tricky - a bit like trying to climb a child’s slide in socks and without touching the sides. I had no choice but to put on my crampons and with the crampons and poles managed to inch my way across only going arse over tit once and even then I turned around to see if anyone had noticed.
I carried on and eventually reached the lakes, the advantage of moving on the lakes was that it was nice and flat and thus I could move quicker. Well, that’s the theory.
I plodded on but was very aware of the sleep monster now creeping up on me. My eyes kept closing, I was knackered.
I looked at my watch and it was a little after midnight I had had 3 hours sleep since Braeburn.
I tried everything to keep the monster at bay:- shutting my eyes for a few steps, shutting one eye at a time, washing my face with snow, nodding for a few seconds at a time while resting on my poles. They all worked for a minute or two but the reality was they were just delaying the inevitable. I knew if I could just keep awake I would make it to the checkpoint.
This was helped by the fact that I was now coming off the lakes and into some woods. I was getting close, just a bit further, I’m nearly
there.
Moving through the woods I saw some people huddled together, talking. Thinking they were either support crew or a group of trappers, I approached but they rather rudely stopped talking and moved off. However, rounding a corner I saw them again and again they moved off. Thinking they might not have seen me I hurried after them and again they moved off, Bastards. I only wanted to ask them how much further to Pelly Crossing.
As I was deciding wether I should chase them or not, I wandered slightly off the trail and my walking pole disappeared into the thigh high snow. The shock woke me up with a start and I suddenly realised that there was no group of people wandering around the Yukon at 03:00 talking in huddled group whilst playing ‘catch’ to some poor unfortunate soul trying to get to Pelly Crossing.
The bloody sleep monster had sneaked up. I was close to Pelly but I knew I had to stop and get some sleep. So, reluctantly, I pulled my sledge to one side of the trail, got my bivi bag out and got into my sleeping bag then promptly fell asleep for nearly 3 hours.
I woke up feeling much better. The first thing I did was to see if anyone had passed me during my sleep - there didn’t appear any fresh footprints but I couldn’t be sure. I don’t know why I did that, I wasn’t racing, I was just trying to finish.
Unfortunately my camelbak had frozen, it was now just a block of ice and now I couldn’t decide whether I should get my stove out and make a drink or plod on. I reasoned that I was close to the next checkpoint so opted to plod on. I put the block of ice on my back and moved off. It was now a little after 08:00 and I hadn’t seen any trail markers for some time but owing to the fact that there were a lot of disgarded booties (little overboots that mushers use to protect the dogs feet) along the trail I knew I was going in the right direction.
After an hour or so I decided that I needed a poo, a number two, and started looking for a suitable spot whilst at the same time working out the logistics involved:- ie unharness my sledge, find the toilet tissue, remove my jacket to release braces, do I use walking poles to hold onto or do I rely on my balance, my legs are tired and well-used, the squatting position might be too stressful, I’ll use poles etc etc. Also I realised that I hadn’t been since I had started. Eventually I found just such a place, I unharnessed, fished out some toilet paper, made my way over to one side, selected the spot and then started the laborious process of removing clothing. Then I heard a vehicle, not a snowmobile but a proper vehicle:- now it was a question of do I or don’t I? I stopped what I was doing, replaced the clothing, made my way back to the sledge, replaced the now unused toilet roll, harnessed up and moved off. I then saw, to my right, a wooden house, not a cabin but a house. Then I came to a road, followed it for maybe a km through Pelly Crossing and then saw the checkpoint banner. I arrived at 11:08.
On entering the place I was met by one of the medics, Eric, he welcomed me in, offered me a drink and some food which I gratefully accepted but not before I made good use of a proper toilet and washing facilities.
It’s amazing what a good poo, washing and cleaning teeth can do for ones morale. After I had eaten and sorted some kit out and repacked my sledge I was keen to get going again. I wanted to make use of the daylight. I left at 13:46.
I made my way out of Pelly and crossed a road bridge. As I did so, I looked down onto the river and only then did I spot the trail markers. As I reached the other side I followed the trail markers up and off the river and rejoined the proper route.
After about 2 hours I spotted coming toward me, at a great rate of knots, the 2 Italians that made up Team Terraz. They looked shattered: limping and hobbling. We shook hands and they asked “how much further?” I didn’t know the distance, but I told them that I had left the checkpoint at 13:46. They seemed happy, shook hands again. We wished each other good luck and went our separate ways.
Moving along the road I heard a vehicle coming up behind me, I turned around and saw that it was Robert, the race organiser and Diane, the medic, they asked if I was okay, I said that I was.
I asked about the next checkpoint at Pelly Farms, realising that I would be there in the early hours. Diane said “Don’t worry they will have the kettle on for when you arrive, someone will be up.”
They drove off and I was left to look forward to a decent sleep, some hot food and hot drinks.
At about 19:30 I came across the halfway marker, that also indicated that it was time to get back onto the river. I had a quick wee, something to eat and stepped onto the river. I felt good and had worked out that if it had taken me approx 6 hours to reach halfway (and that’s with a slight detour and a couple of stops to chat) I should, fingers crossed, be at the checkpoint between 01:30 and 02:00. With this in mind and the thought of some sleep and food I got my arse in gear and started to push hard and fast.
The river was tricky and seemed to my tired mind to be going up hill, but following the route markers and feeling good I moved quickly. Then I spotted something, a cabin, all the lights were off. After gingerly knocking on the door I went in, looked around: nothing. Though I was in someone’s home there was no sign of life. I called out a couple of times but nothing, I found the light switch, turned on the light, had a walk round, again nothing. I checked my watch, it was 00:46, slightly confused I realised that I way ahead of my predicted time, this couldn’t be the checkpoint, after all, both Diane and Robert had said they would be up waiting for me and they knew I’d be arriving. I went outside and checked a couple outbuildings, nothing.
Realising I had cocked up, I harnessed up and moved off, figuring that the checkpoint was not much further and knowing I couldn’t miss it as it was on the riverbank and I was on the river - simple.
My heart was saying that this WAS the checkpoint, but my oh-so-logical head kept telling me that it wasn’t, because I had been told that someone would be up to meet me, with the kettle on.
Moving along, desperately trying to scan the riverbanks for any signs of the elusive Pelly Farms checkpoint. I applied every available sense I had: sight, smell and hearing all went into overdrive, nothing. It was now gone 04:00 and still nothing.
I was bloody annoyed with myself, for again overestimating my ability. I walked on, moaning to myself, cursing my stupidity, questioning my reason for being here in the Yukon, freezing my balls off, alone, fed up and pissed off. I’m 47 years old, I should know better. I could be at home in my bed, I don’t have to be here. Ultra-distance running its a bloody stupid sport. Golf, now there’s a proper sport, why don’t I take up golf. That’s what I’ll do when I get back, I can wear a Pringle jumper and one of those funny gloves instead of these oversized Arctic mittens and a sensible pair of shoes. I’m never, ever coming to the Yukon again, this race will be my last, in fact when I get to Pelly I’ll knock it on the head. I don’t care if I don’t finish. I wonder where the checkpoint is. I hope they have something nice to eat, I could do with a cup of tea.
On and on it went, me feeling sorry for myself and the fact that I was even contemplating playing golf was a sign of how bad things had become.
A quick look at my watch, nearly 06:00. I should have found the bloody checkpoint by now. I must have missed it, I’ll turn back in a minute, just a little further it must be here somewhere. I couldn’t have passed it. Trying to work out where I might have missed it. I didn’t, couldn’t have, I was desperate, which in turn had made me extra vigilant.
Another look at my watch, nearly 06:30. I should have been there four and a half, five hours ago, BOLLOCKS. I’ll have to turn round BOLLOCKS, BOLLOCKS and BLOODY BOLLOCKS!
I’ll go back to the cabin - maybe they know where bloody Pelly Farms is.
I, for some reason decided to write my name in the snow, taking my trekking pole, I wrote ‘BERRIDGE 06:30’ with an arrow pointing in my direction of travel. It was only after the race that I discovered this simple message had caused much confusion:- my tracks were going in both directions and a cryptic message was a great talking point between Frank and Andy, the two guys immediately behind me. It d
id, however, confirm to the world my stupidity (and the fact that I had done an extra 40km!).
I reluctantly turned around. Now I was pissed off, my shoulders dropped, as did my head, my walking poles had now become redundant, useless extensions, just dragging along behind me.
I was having an almighty sulk. My race was over, I’ve lost so much time I’ll probably be last anyway, nobody cares, nobody loves me, blah blah bloody blah.
I carried on still feeling sorry for myself, whilst at the same time making up various ailments and injuries that I could use as an excuse to bail out with a little dignity. Then, up ahead, I spotted what I thought was a plume of smoke. Moving towards it more out of hope than anything, I saw the plume again and then as I got closer I saw 2 people - a man and a child.
As much as we men don’t like to ask for directions, on this occasion I really didn’t give a toss. I was going to ask them how to get to Pelly Farms.
Fortunately they spotted me, waved and called me over, then another person appeared at the door of the cabin. I was now in a dilemma:- if they invited me in and offered me a drink do I accept or not? If I do, my race is over as the rules state no outside help.
I was still making my mind up, when I heard Diane say “Welcome to Pelly Farms, we were expecting you last night.” It was now a little after 11:00. Then the penny dropped: this was Pelly Farms, the place I had been last night. I had just walked for 10 hours to get to where I was! I hadn’t recognised the place in daylight.
I explained that I was here last night and, to confirm it, I described the interior of the cabin, including a pair of white mittens with the name Kimberly written on them and the six bottles of mineral water on the sideboard. “How, when, what time did you get here?” I said “my watch said 00:46”. They went on to apologise and explained that they were expecting me at around 02:00 and had set the alarm clock for 01:30.
Fartleks & Flatulence Page 12