I pulled up outside, it was 05:53. I removed my sled bag and entered what was really just a vehicle workshop - the Hilton it was not. Smelly, dusty and noisy. However, it was warm and out of the cold. Sue, one of the race crew, beckoned me in, asked if I needed anything. Just hot water and a place to sleep was my reply.
The only other person there was Mick, the guy I had seen at the Rock River checkpoint, and he was asleep. Then, a few minutes after my arrival, the door opened and in came Kev, annoyingly looking good and fairly fresh. I grabbed a small area of the floor, unrolled my sleeping bag and had a rehydrated hot meal. Before I dozed off, Sue asked what I would need before I went and what time would I be leaving? I wanted to leave at 09:00 - it was now a little after 06:30 so I got my flasks out and said “I would like to fill these and if you could wake me up in a couple of hours so I could leave at nine?” Sue, like a mother hen, was fantastic and more than happy to kick me out at nine. I sort of fell asleep - it was a cross between dozing and napping. All too soon I was being woken, not by the gentle tones of the gentle female voice, but a fire extinguisher! Sue was busy boiling water for my flasks but the camping stove she was using was, to say the least, temperamental, so temperamental was it that it set fire to itself. A fire in a fume-filled, oil-stained vehicle workshop, was not great. Immediate action was required. Kev grabbed a fire extinguisher and was doing battle with the now flaming stove. Fine white powder and the smell of melted plastic now filled the air.
A few minutes later, Kev left. The time was about a quarter to eight. I tried to get back to sleep, failed miserably, so decided to get up and get going. I had a quick bite to eat and then started to pack. Sue, in the meantime, used the remaining two ‘jetboil’ stoves to heat water for my flasks. Just as I was about to leave, another racer, Ian, came in. His first question to me was “Are you leaving?” When I replied that I was, his next question was “How long have you been here?” I hadn’t really noticed Ian prior to this - he seemed quietly composed, serious and organised - he finished getting himself sorted - I bade farewell, and left the James Creek checkpoint at 08:46.
The next checkpoint was Fort Mcpherson, some 47 miles away. I was glad to be on my way, I was feeling well fed and watered and it was another glorious sunny day - beautiful clear blue skies, cold, yes, but not quite the hostile Arctic weather I was expecting.
Shortly after leaving the checkpoint, the route passed through a gorge. The gorge was in shadow and was stunning; filled with broken ice and ‘overflow’ that needed to be avoided, beautiful aquamarine-coloured ice littered large parts. Such a visual feast was it, that your mind was somewhat distracted from the fact that you were actually climbing. The climb wasn’t particularly steep but it was noticeable. As I neared the top of the gorge I could see that there was a right-hand turn and through the steep gorge walls the sun was shining and brilliant.
I was glad to reach the top - the effort to do so had left me nicely warm and once I got into the sun, I would no doubt, get warmer. I stopped, had a quick coffee and replaced my small down jacket with a gillet. Whilst I was doing this, I took in the stunning view. I could see for miles and scanned the route ahead for any sight of Kev - he must have been shifting because I could see nothing.
I moved off and, fortunately, the route was now descending, I decided to move fast, lest someone behind decided to scour the route looking for the runner ahead, me. I know it sounds petty and childish but I also know that if I see someone ahead it not only gives me a great boost to morale but it also gives me something to chase. In short, I didn’t want someone using me even though I had used Kevin. Hypocrisy, another one of those flaws in my personality! (The sport of ultra-distance running really does have a knack of finding the strengths, weaknesses and flaws in your personality).
I moved quickly and still felt comfortable. After a while, I passed what appeared to be a campsite. It was now, however, snow covered and abandoned. Midway Lake, the sign post proudly stated. Midway between where and where, I wasn’t sure. Then suddenly the road widened and another sign stated that this was an ‘Emergency airstrip’. I continued along the annoying road, annoying because it was constantly undulating, small hill after small hill. You could never see further than the next small hill. It was when I was having a private moan to myself about yet another bloody hill that I realised a vehicle had drawn level with me. It was Martin Like, the race director, he leaned out of the window offering words of encouragement and asked if I was racing Kev - I wasn’t. Martin, I’m sure, seemed concerned that I was being a bit of a pillock. He didn’t want me to blow my chances of completing the 352 miles to Tuk. I tried to reassure him but he didn’t look convinced!
Shortly after Martin left, I spotted a 50km to Fort Mcpherson sign - roughly 30 miles.
At Fort Mcpherson I planned to have a good long break of at least six hours, so I was keen to crack on. I was eating and drinking regularly and felt surprisingly good. Even though I had not seen Kev since James Creek, it was knowing he was ahead of me that spurred me on. I always assumed that I would be able to spot him and maybe, just maybe, if he was resting, or had problems, would catch him.
I continued on with thoughts of catching Kev and not getting caught myself, when a sign proclaimed Peel River Ice crossing 2km ahead. Crossing the frozen Peel river and clambering up the other side another sign informed me that Fort Mcpherson was 11km away. I tried to hurry but my knackered old legs were having none of it. Then a vehicle approached, slowed down and turned around and stopped. It was one of the race vehicles coming to meet me. They said that Fort Mcpherson was just 5km away and they would guide me in because it was a bit tricky finding the school that the checkpoint was in.
I was grateful for that, as I know from bitter experience, that trying to find a checkpoint in a town, at night and when you’re knackered, is never straightforward. (This was later confirmed when one of the runners left the school, but could not find the Dempster Highway and consequently spent an hour or so walking around fort Mcpherson until a race vehicle saw him and guided him out!).
I finally arrived at the Chief Julius School at 22:44, a little bit quicker than I was expecting. Kev had arrived a couple of hours ago and had managed to break the record for the distance by about four hours.
I went through my usual routine:- feet sorted out first, drinks and food, then told some exaggerated war stories and then a catch up on the latest news of other runners.
Once that was all done, it was a quick wash, teeth clean and bed. The school gym was the designated sleeping area. I was surprised by the amount of people there already. Each of them for whatever reason, had withdrawn. I felt, well, I don’t know what I felt. Though most of them seemed to be awake, the gym lights were on and I could see and hear them fidgeting, farting, faffing, coughing and the odd snore. No-one spoke to me. I felt awkward, maybe they felt the same.
I got sorted, had more food and set my alarm. Just to make sure, I had asked Sue if she could wake me at 4:15 as I didn’t want to oversleep. At a little before four I woke, lay there and a few minutes later the ever-reliable Sue came in and made sure I was awake. As I was packing up to leave, one of those deja vu moments - Ian walked in and again asked if I was leaving and what time did I get here!
Ian, I have to say, looked pretty good and I figured that he, if anyone, could win this race. I knew nothing about him, what races he had done (if any), his background, training - nothing except that he was on my tail and would be difficult to shake off. I put these thoughts to the back of my mind, as I had decided long ago that this was not a race for me, it was a challenge that I WOULD finish. If I got into a race my whole pace, strategy, plan, and way of thinking would be dictated by someone else. I knew what I had to do and I knew how to do it. In short, I had my plan and I was going to stick to it, come what may.
Leaving the Fort Mcpherson checkpoint at 05:14, I was in fact 46 minutes earlier than I had originally planned. However, it was my decision and had not been dictated by anyone else!
Once
I found my way back onto to the Dempster, I suddenly realised how cold it was - so cold that I had to, for the first time, put on my big down jacket. I wanted to move fast on this section, it was one of the shorter sections at 38 miles. Thankfully the terrain was pretty good and allowed for speedy progress. After about three or four hours I had a quick drink of coffee. I carry a small flask on a hip belt - this allows me to have a hot drink whilst moving. With the snacks in my pockets and my camelbak, I have no real need to stop. I move constantly, eat and drink on the move, saving valuable time. I have seen racers in the past, stopping regularly to get something out of their sled or stop to eat or drink. It might only be for a minute or two but it is a minute or two lost!
The road was long and straight and you could, unfortunately, see for miles ahead. A vehicle would come past and you would spend the next twenty minutes, half an hour, watching it disappear into the distance. Consequently, I spent a large amount of this section with my head down, only ever looking at the few feet in front of me.
My mind began to wander. I’m often asked what I think about when I’m doing these things and I have to say that I think I have just about covered every subject under the sun, from who had a hit with that annoying tune I keep humming to myself, I should really learn to cook, I must finish that little landscaping project I started, I must knuckle down and train for the Norseman, I wish I had got one of those ‘coldavenger’ face masks, who was the woman who sang on the Flying Lizards, “Money that’s what I want” single, I’m glad I went for the four wheels, and not two, and Cameron Diaz. Well, lets just say I think of all sorts of things. It helps if you have a great imagination, this is definitely not a sport for people with no imagination.
As I was lost in thought, a vehicle pulled up beside me - Martin. He explained that Tsiigehtchic was 13 kms away, and went on to explain how to get to it, as it was a bit of a maze. I thanked him and, as he pulled away, I tried to speed up - it didn’t last long.
I drank the last of my lukewarm coffee and was busy shoving in a handful of Rolos, when I suddenly remembered the woman who sang with the Flying Lizards was called Deborah something!
As I got closer to Tsiigehtchic, which apparently translates to ‘Mouth of the Iron River,’ I again tried to speed up. Fortunately, the last little bit was downhill, unfortunately, however, it was taking me away from where I wanted to go. I tried to remember what Martin had said, something about having to go away from it before returning to it. I crossed my fingers and just followed the road. After a while and with Tsiigehtchic behind me I spotted the signpost that guided me in. Just as I was turning onto the frozen river crossing, a snowmachine came towards me and stopped. An elderly couple were on the thing - they introduced themselves and asked if I was okay. I replied that I was and I was just on my way to the Community Gymnasium. They asked where I had come from and then explained how to get to the Gymnasium. They then invited me to their house for some hot soup - tempting though it was, I explained that I was in a race and if I received any help I would be disqualified. I then went on to explain that the race had started at Eagle Plains and that I was now walking to Tuk.
They looked at me with a look that said “Of course you are.”
I carried on along the river and on entering Tsiigehtchic, I saw coming towards me a couple of fellow racers that had kindly come to show me the way. Walking through the maze-like community I was thankful that they had come out, as I would never have found the thing.
I arrived at 17:26 and Shelly, one of the racers, asked if I would like a cup of tea. What is it about a good old cuppa? Even the offer is comforting. I hadn’t planned to stay long, just long enough to have some food, a quick wash, clean my teeth, top up my flasks and go.
I left the checkpoint a couple of hours later at 19:35. I knew this next section at 51 miles was going to be tough, not just the distance but the long flat sections would be mentally challenging and I figured that if I could do most of it through the night, it would be a little easier.
As I was packing up to leave, Martin came over and gave me some directions and explained the route ahead. Unfortunately for the poor old racer, Martin suffers from a rare medical condition, so rare is it that it has yet to be named. There are medical terms for colour blindness (colour vision deficiency), word blindness (dyslexia) and even number blindness (dyscalculia) but hill blindness, or the complete inability to see or acknowledge the fact that when terrain ascends or climbs it, is called a hill.
Martin went on to explain that there was a slight hill three or four km away and after that the route is fairly flat. Martin saying that there is a ‘slight hill’ set off the alarm bells. I had already struggled to clamber up some of his flat sections, so I braced myself for a challenging slog, uphill climb.
With Martin’s well-intentioned route description ringing in my ears, I left Tsiigehtchic. Once I dropped down onto the frozen river the wonderful world of silence returned. Lost in thought and plodding along the Dempster, a truck passed me, beeped his horn and waved. I smiled and gave him the thumbs up. The early evening dusk allowed me the opportunity to follow the truck’s rear red lights for a few minutes as it made steady progress. It turned slightly right and then it started heading up into the night sky - the thing actually looked as if it was driving vertically, up and up it went before disappearing into the sky.
I carried on and then came face to face with the ‘slight hill’. It looked awful, probably made worse by my over-active imagination. As I approached the thing, a thought occurred - I was walking on the left, they drive on the right, in other words, should a vehicle suddenly appear over the brow of the hill it would be on my side of the road and would not see me!
I went into self-preservation mode, crossed my fingers, removed my balaclava, so that I could at least hear any approaching vehicle. I watched the road ahead like a hawk and went hell for leather - speed and self-preservation far outweighed any idea of sensible pacing and besides, I could have a breather when and if I reached the safety of the summit. I just hoped that this small section of the Dempster would remain vehicle-free for the next few minutes!
I hugged the snowbank and hurried up all the time, keeping my eyes and ears peeled for any oncoming vehicles. I was lucky and reached the top in one slightly knackered piece.
Once on the top, I celebrated my good fortune with a handful of Haribos and a handful of Rolos. It was now dark and I was very aware that this section was “challenging” and I was extremely relieved that I could not see too far ahead. Feeling good, I pushed on at a reasonable pace, and then some time in the early hours, the ‘sleepmonster’ pounced. We had our usual tussle, but I have ‘tussled’ with the ‘sleepmonster’ enough to know when to back down and take a break and that time was now. Looking around, it was plainly obvious that there was nowhere to get off the road, with the metre high banks of rock hard, compact snow on either side, acting as a fence. I decided to have a picnic on the road.
Fortunately, the road being long and straight meant that any approaching vehicle could be seen for miles before it actually reached me.
I unharnessed, grabbed some food and coffee and, like the Mad Hatter, proceeded to have a little ‘Tea Party’, sitting on the Dempster eating Pringles crisps, shortbread biscuits, chocolate and jerky. As I sat there listening to the absolute silence, I looked around. Stillness and silence that’s all there was, nothing, but nothing moved - it was as if I was sitting in a painting (well I told you I was tired!).
I continued on my way, the scenery and the terrain had not changed one bit. The road was long and straight, I was looking for any change just a little variety, anything to break the monotony. I was thankful it was dark, to do this section in the daylight would have been horrendous.
As the daylight appeared, I seemed to get a second wind. I drank more coffee, ate some Rolos and tried to put a spurt on. Then Martin made one of his welcome appearances, gave a few words of encouragement and disappeared.
I carried on and the terrain changed. There was a lot
of overflow and large areas had been taped off - wet and slippery sections were everywhere and as I was carefully picking my way through, another vehicle approached. It was Murray, another one of the race crew. He explained that the Caribou checkpoint was 12 km ahead. I thanked him, and as he left, started to translate that into English 12 km = approx 8 miles.
I couldn’t decide if that was good news or bad, but tried to hurry up anyway. I was still in the process of deciding, when I caught sight of one of the race vehicles parked up ahead and as I drew level, the occupants got out and said “Welcome to Caribou Creek”. The time was 14:30.
I was mightily relieved, however, the two chalets that were being used were along a long narrow and soft snow-filled path. Looking at the soft-deep and uneven snow I was trying to work out how I was going to get my kit to the chalets when the guys who were now out of the race said they would bring my stuff in. Once again, the camaraderie of my fellow runners showed itself. I made my way along the path like an inebriated old drunk, tripping and slipping, occasionally one or other of my feet would disappear into knee-deep snow, as would one of my walking poles. Eventually I reached the chalets - one had a number of bunk-beds in and the other was being used for cooking, drying kit and as a sort of day room. I avoided the very tempting offer of a bed, tired as I was I didn’t want to stay long: my plan had always been to have a good long sleep at the next checkpoint, Inuvik.
I once again went through my usual routine of checking and cleaning my feet, food and drinks, then once the personal admin was done I grabbed one of the three settees and got some sleep. I woke up at about 17:00 and got ready to leave, filled my flasks, had a bit more to eat and at 17:50 some 3 hours 20 minutes after arriving, I left.
I had no idea of how far behind or who it was in 2nd place but the fact that I was leaving checkpoints before they arrived was, I hoped, a good sign.
The next section was the second shortest at just 30 miles. Shortly after leaving Caribou Creek, I was treated to a small hill. Once on the top, the views opened up and were absolutely spectacular, the going was good and not too challenging. The short rest and sleep had recharged my batteries which had in turn enabled me to inject a bit of speed. It didn’t last long and after about 4 or 5 hours I pulled over for a quick wee, something to eat and a cup of coffee. As I was drinking and eating, a vehicle approached and stopped - my first thought was that I had been caught “urinating in a public place”. However, it was just a couple of the locals who asked if I was okay and did I need a lift? I replied that I was fine but my English accent must have thrown them, because they asked where I was from and what was I doing, out here at this time of night? I explained that I was in a race and that I was walking to Tuk. They humoured me but explained that the Ice Road was unusually slippery and I needed to be careful. I thanked them for stopping and moved off. A little time later another vehicle approached - it was Martin who stopped and informed me that Inuvik was 22km away. We had a little chat and he said that if I carried on at this rate I could break Mimi’s record (Mimi Anderson Ultra-distance running legend holds the record for this race at 143:23 hours). This perked me up a bit, as he left he said that Kevin was coming out to meet me and would guide me in.
Fartleks & Flatulence Page 24