"YUKON NOT
BE SERIOUS"
300 Miles across the Yukon Wilderness
The Worlds COLDEST and TOUGHEST Winter Extreme Ultra Marathon The diary
Introduction
This is my fourth extreme Ultra Marathon and without a shadow of a doubt
the toughest by far. I have written race reports on all my previous
races and each time I have competed, I have written successively that
each particular race was harder than the previous one. In 2000 I finished
my first Ultra Marathon, the Marathon des Sables (MdS) in Morocco,
which has the title "the toughest footrace on earth". This might have
been a true statement about 10 years ago when Extreme Ultra Marathons
were in their infancy - but today, with newer and harder races being
organised all the time, this statement is total poppycock. In February
2002 I competed in Alaska in the now defunct 130 mile race along the
Iditarod trail, when climatic conditions were potentially at their
worst. Thankfully, during the course of this race, we were blessed
with relatively good weather and had it not been for a nasty change
in the weather during the last few miles of the race, I would have
regarded this race as a step backwards in difficulty from the MdS.
Those last few miles tipped the balance in my assessment of toughness
and pushed it slightly above the MdS - Winter races have the added
extreme variable of weather conditions which have the potential of
making any race reasonable to complete or alternatively downright impossible
(desert races similarly have their respective weather variable - but
nowhere near to the same degree). Later in the year, I returned to
the Desert to compete in the Jordan Desert Cup. I totally underestimated
this race - it was "only" 168km - so what could be difficult about
that? The Jordan Cup ended up pushing me to what I then thought was
my absolute limits. I did have difficulty with blisters - the bugbear
of any endurance athlete - but it was a poor and disrespectful attitude
to the magnitude of this particular race prior to the event that was
my near undoing.
I do not wish to undermine the difficulty of any of the races above,
as I honestly believe that the completion of the first race aided me
in completing the second race and so on. There is no way on earth that
I would have finished the Yukon race without having paid my dues in the
former races. Anyone, for instance, who is about to or has completed
the MdS has my absolute full respect - but I guarantee you that if you
are of the mind to do another race, you will look for something a bit
harder - and so it goes on. On completion of the Yukon race I emailed
friends and family at home adapting the words of a famous rower I said "if
anyone ever sees me enter another race as difficult as this again, you
have my permission to shoot me. I never want to do anything as physically,
mentally and emotionally hard as this ever again..". Needless to say
within 1 week of finishing, my mind was already plotting my next race,
which quite probably will be back to the Yukon - but to do the job better.
Pre Race
My entry into this race went in during the middle of 2002. I had competed
in and finished the Iditasport 130 mile race in Alaska earlier that
year and had, by my standards, achieved a good result coming in 4th
overall and first from Europe. This result wetted my appetite for Winter
Ultra Races, particularly as I felt so strong (after a nights sleep)
at the end of the race, so initially I intended returning to Alaska
to compete in the longer race to McGrath. However, by the middle of
2002, news was coming through of a new race being organised in the
Yukon region of Canada. This race was the brainchild of a Robert Pollhammer,
a German and fellow racer in Alaska. Robert has an air about him that
conveyed to me that if he was going to organise something, then it
would be done well. So with little hesitation, once I had got the green
light from my family, my entry was sent in along with an entry from
my running partner Andrew Barnett.
With the completion of the Jordan race in early November 2002, I knew
I had a good endurance base to work on. The Yukon race is nearly 3 times
further than the Jordan race - but I have always had the attitude that
all you need to do to finish a race is put one foot in front of the other - so
the distance was irrelevant and as long as you are mentally strong, the
physical part will, within reason, take care of itself. With the benefit
of hindsight, this attitude is in the main totally flawed and I don't
now recommend anyone adopting this theory.
My training started pretty well immediately on my return from Jordan,
as I now had less than 3 months before the gun went off in Whitehorse
(starting line in Yukon). I had a slight niggle in my left foot from
the Jordan race, but I didn't have time to worry about that now. The
training programme I adopted was based on my previous programmes but
with the proposed training distances being considerably longer and more
of them. A number of training runs ranging from about 10 hours to 2 days
were organised with Andrew and fellow competitor Shirley Thompson. Other
British entrants doing the 100 mile race in the Yukon also joined us
on various runs conducted mainly around the Forest of Dean and the Black
Mountains just outside Hay-on-Wye. The training wasn't going particularly
well. My foot kept giving me a lot of grief usually after about 6 hours
or so - but in the early stages I kept believing that in due course the
problem would disappear. A flying visit to Finland for some winter training
between Christmas and New Year did nothing to my confidence as far as
my foot was concerned - but it did show me the wonderful attributes of
Voltarol, a brilliantly powerful painkiller. In early January, I arranged
to do a 24 hour run with Andrew, where we planned to do about 75 miles.
All was well for the first 5 hours, but by 8 hours I was in absolute
debilitating pain and there was no way I could go on. The foot was totally
buggered. I had about 5 weeks until the start of the race - but in this
condition there was no way I could contemplate finishing 30 miles, let
alone 300 miles. A visit to the Doctors re-supplied me with Voltarol
tablets and an appointment with a podiatrist (only problem being that
the NHS in the state it is in at present, there is a 5 month waiting
list for an appointment - fat lot of use with my race 5 weeks away).
Undeterred, I resorted to plan B and purchased a turbo trainer for the
bike and planned to return to running in 2 weeks. The 2 weeks rest from
running extended the full 5 weeks right up to the start of the race.
I only managed 2 runs of 4 miles each in that period - not a great confidence
booster.
On Friday February 7th Andrew and myself caught a flight from Heathrow
to Vancouver. We were flying a day later than everyone else. The start
of the race had been brought forward a day, but unlike all the other
racers we were unable to change our flight schedule. 11 hours later we
arrived in Vancouver and now had a 1 night stopover before our trip continued
to Whitehorse. The flight over was fairly uneventful, with the exception
of throwing my boarding pass for the flight to Whitehorse in the Mcdonald's
waste bin at Vancouver Airport and not realising I had lost it for about ½ an
hour. This resulted in me having to upend the waste bin in public and
sorting through the burger wrappers, milkshake cups etc to find it - much
to the amusement of Andrew and much to my delight when I eventually found
it.
We were met at Whitehorse Airport at 11.00am on the 8th by the organiser
and Rob Bayman a British competitor in the 100 race. Rob had flown into
Whitehorse the day before, but was at the Airport hoping that his baggage
containing much of his race gear was on our flight - as it had been lost
at Vancouver - thankfully it arrived.
We were transported the few miles to our Hotel, which also doubled as
the base for the race. The race was due to start tomorrow, so Andrew
and myself had little time to rest as we had to sort our kit out, in
particular the 2 Drop Bags containing spare clothes, food and fuel that
the 300 mile competitors were allowed to have for the 100 mile and 172
mile Checkpoints.
That evening all the competitors attended a race briefing and it was
during this briefing I had a cold shudder - I suddenly realised that
300 miles was a sod of a long way. Why I hadn't realised this before
is beyond me. Added to this reality check, we were now also being told
that a Grizzly Bear had been seen on the trail that day, that the river
ice was melting, and therefore the likelihood of breaking through the
ice was a distinct possibility, and all other manner of dangers were
aired. I was quietly questioning my sanity - and with the fun I had had
with my foot over the previous 5 weeks - I really didn't want to be there.
An email was sent home expressing these sentiments - but I was aware
that my wife at home was concerned for my safety - therefore the tone
of the email was a serious understatement - I had real and serious concerns.
Following the briefing, the rest of the evening was spent either back
in the Hotel room preparing the sleds or in the bar of the hotel trying
in vain to chill out a bit.
After a very poor nights sleep, the following morning saw Andrew and
myself packing and repacking our sleds. Eventually, all our kit was packed
and loaded onto the truck taking the sleds to the start line. Most of
the racers travelled the mile or so to the start ahead of the truck,
in order that we could watch the start of the famous Yukon Quest Dog
race which travels 1000 miles from Whitehorse to Fairbanks in Alaska.
Our race was to start ½ an hour after the last Dog Team left and
it was as a result of the Yukon Quest wanting us to be a part of their
event that the start of our race had been brought forward a day (a wonderful
gesture on their part and something that added a great deal of credibility
to our race with the locals of Whitehorse).
Andrew and I watched most of the starters in the Dog race before heading
up town to get a last bite to eat. With less than hour to go, and whilst
trying to get as much food in my body before the start, I was feeling
very sick in the stomach from nerves. I hadn't felt this sick since my
competitive days in Slalom Canoeing 10 or more years before. Andrew felt
the same way. The enormity of the challenge ahead was awesome - but I
couldn't complain - no one was forcing me to do this, and to add insult
to injury, I had paid for the "pleasure" of competing.
Shortly before 2.30pm on the 9th all the racers in both the 100 mile
and 300 mile race were lined up on the start - except for me that is.
I was floundering about 100 yards back from the start line - I was wearing
too many clothes - I couldn't decide what to take off - I would take
one piece of kit off then decide something else had to be taking off.
I could visualise the race starting and me pratting about sorting out
the basics of how to dress. It was a stupid situation but I felt a real
panic. I am certain all this little pantomime was a result of my nervous
attitude - and if this was going to upset me - then I was going to be
stuffed when things got serious out on the trail. Eventually I pulled
myself together and joined all the other racers on the line. I still
had at least 2 minutes in hand. As is my custom, when the gun went off,
I crossed the start line dead last. This custom I have adopted since
Iditasort, when I came to the bizarre opinion that if I start last - then
theoretically no one can pass me.
Note: The distances quoted below are my
estimations, based on my times, information available from
bike computers of fellow racers, snow-machines, information
from the organiser and also subsequently measuring off a
1:500,000 scale map (not the most accurate source). The figures
do not always tally with the organisers estimations - but
I believe are a more accurate reflection of the true distances
covered. I have no wish to overestimate and I stand to be
corrected.
Whitehorse to Takini (Mandatory Camp-out)
- 23 miles (23 miles)
At 2.30pm on the 9th February the race got underway. With support from
the crowd of well wishers alongside the route, the race snaked its way
out of town on the Man made snow trail for about a mile before dropping
down onto the Frozen Yukon River. Due to the unseasonably mild weather
the Yukon River was not as thickly frozen as might have been expected.
Instead of the trail proceeding directly on-top of the frozen water it
hugged to the left bank and was generally uneven with soft slushy snow
in many places. I firmly established myself towards the back of the race
and with some delight watched some of the less experienced racers plough
on as if the race was only 20 miles long. Cockily, I thought to myself
that many of these I would see later in the race. The terrain under foot
was hard going - the soft uneven snow meant that my feet were constantly
treading 6" into the ground and this was very strength sapping. My thoughts
in these very early stages was that there was no way I was going to be
able to complete this 300 mile race unless the trail conditions improved
dramatically. At least I wasn't struggling as much as Greg Heming, a
mountain bike entrant from the Yukon who was having to push his bike
every inch of the way in these early stages and soon I was leaving him
in my wake. Andrew had disappeared into the distance, which I knew he
would, but I was fairly confident that I would gain on him later in the
race. He is a much faster racer than me, but I think it is fair to say
that I can handle the sleep deprivation better than him - or at least
that is what I think.
According to the organisers trail description, after 18 miles the trail
turns left off the Yukon onto the Takini River. Based on this information
I anticipated reaching this point at about 8.30pm, so I was somewhat
amazed to reach the turning a little after 7.00pm. I was very grateful
to be making this turn as immediately the trail underfoot firmed up and
made progress a lot easier. However, at pretty much the same time, my
foot, which had troubled me back at home, started to ache. This was not
good news and immediately the Voltarol was called into action. Proceeding
up the Takini River, it wasn't long before I could see behind me the
light from Greg's headtorch as he quickly caught me up - this wasn't
a surprise as I anticipated that he was now on his bike - but when he
passed I was gutted to see that he was actually still pushing and was
in fact going faster than me. Not a good omen - this was a clear sign
of a serious problem with my foot and the consequences of my lack of
speed was going to be significant in how I was going to tackle this race
from here on in. After a further 7-8 miles I finally rounded a bend in
the river and saw the light of the mandatory camp ahead. Passing into
the camp at 9.38pm I was running 3rd from last in the race and, to say
the least, very disappointed. The mandatory camp-out was for 4 hours
and to put into context how poorly I had done on this opening stage - soon
after my arrival, the leading racer (albeit that he is a very experienced
biker) was preparing to leave. I quickly scoffed some beef stew and had
a couple of cups of coffee, before sorting out my bivvy bag and sleeping
bag for a few hours sleep. I, like all the other racers, had to also
prove to the organiser at the camp-out that I had the required kit and
knowledge to light a stove for the purposes of obtaining water from the
snow in the case of emergency. My effort was pretty poor as my stove
only produced a weak blue flame when Robert (organiser) made his inspection - but
I passed this off thinking that I hadn't pumped up the fuel enough - but
I was completely content that everything was fine. Robert, being aware
that I had raced in similar circumstances allowed my attempt to pass
muster.
Takini to Kynocks - 56 Miles (79 miles)
By 1.05am (Monday 10th) I was out of my bag and starting to sort out
my kit and repack it onto my sled. I had made the stupid mistake of
leaving my shoes out of the sleeping bag and now they had frozen solid.
Thankfully, a roaring fire was burning nearby so a 5 minute warm allowed
enough flexibility for me to put them back on in order for me to continue
the packing. I wanted to leave dead on 4 hours - I saw no reason to
lose any time at this checkpoint. Eventually, after 35 minutes I left
Takini (2 minutes over the 4 hours) and proceeded back onto the river.
Almost immediately I was aware of a niggling pain in my foot - but not
so bad as to hinder my progress. In the darkness I could see the lights
of fellow racers in the far distance and my mind was now turning into
competitive mode and plans were forming in my head as to how I could
catch them. After an hour or so, I came upon 2 dog teams with female
musher's taking their scheduled break. These teams were competing in
the shorter 250 mile dog race that started the previous evening - all
13 teams in this race had passed me by whilst I rested at the Camp-out.
They were preparing to leave within the next 15 - 20 minutes so after
a brief chat I continued along the river trail ahead of them. I noticed
I was making ground on the 2 runners ahead of me and eventually just
before the trail headed off the river I caught and passed Tom Ripley
and Christina Ralph from the USA. At about the same time the two dog
teams I had seen earlier quietly, quickly and seemingly effortlessly
passed us all by.
Over the next 3 to 4 hours the undulating trail snaked through woodland
with Tom and Christina yo-yoing with me for position and it was comforting
when at about 8.30am the sun eventually rose. My foot problem wasn't
going away, but with the benefit of painkillers the discomfort was kept
at bay.
By 11.00am I had been on the go for over 9 hours and my body was requesting
a rest. I had recently passed Arnie Owsley, another American racer, who
had stopped for a brew, and additionally I had something like 260 miles
to go, so the decision to rest was easy. I got out my sleeping mat, put
on my duvet jacket and fell to sleep on the side of the trail for ½ an
hour. Feeling a lot better, I packed up again and proceeded along the
trail. The trail passes alongside some high hills on your right. For
a period of about an hour I could hear the howls of coyotes which seemed
to be coming from the foot of these hills about ½ mile away. I
am sure they were well aware of our presence, but bar from a few paw
prints in the snow, I saw no sign of them. I was now yo-yoing with Arnie,
a wonderful character who seemed to have a brilliant attitude for a race
such as this. He seemed to also have a similar strategy to racing as
me - i.e. to go at his own pace (slow or fast) and not to get waylaid
by racers and events around him. This passing and re-passing continued
for a number of hours and was joined briefly at one stage by Michael
Gallacher, another friendly racer who was the type of bloke you could
envisage having a wonderful chat with over a few pints down the pub.
Unfortunately our chats were brief as our respective paces varied considerable
at different times. By the early afternoon, I was again suffering from
lack of sleep. A poor nights sleep prior to the start of the race was
coming back to haunt me. I was beginning to hallucinate, something I
am now getting used to from experience in Alaska and particularly in
Jordan. But this was early in the race and I had no need to fight the
sleep monster as I had plenty of time in hand and I was only 15 miles
from the next Checkpoint. So just after 2.30pm, in broad daylight, I
got all my sleeping kit out on the side of the trail and snuggled down
for a quick 2 hours kip. 3 hours later I was awoken by the sound of a
snow-machine. The sweeper who keeps an eye on the back of the field informed
me now that I was last in the race - a lot of people had passed me whilst
I slept and I was later told I was snoring contentedly like a little
piglet. He further informed me that the trail to the next Checkpoint
was a bit longer than first thought and that I had in fact got 24 miles
to go. There was no point getting all concerned about the additional
mileage - whatever I had to do, all the other racers had to do the same.
Also in my mind, it gave me a little more time to catch up and pass a
few of the racers in front of me.
The trail now threw in a few steeper and longer climbs - I was working
hard on these hills and consequently drinking a lot more water. I was
a little concerned about my water supply as the additional 9 miles could
take up to an additional 3 hours to cover. I decided once my reserves
got so low as to be semi serious that I ought to stop and make some water.
It was night time and getting cold now, but no water would be a serious
problem. I found a fairly sheltered site and got all my cooking equipment
out. Sorted out pans of snow and lit my stove. Major problem # 1 - the
stove wouldn't work. I tried pumping up the fuel but in vain - there
was a blockage on the stove that over the last 4 years has been so reliable.
It was too dark and too cold to try and fiddle with the thing now - I
had half a flask of water on the sled, I would just have to make that
last. Major problem # 2 - I decided to have a quick drink of water from
the flask. The water I had was from the Hotel back in Whitehorse, but
on drinking this, I noticed it was tainted with a strong old coffee taste,
which promptly made me vomit severely. I obviously hadn't cleaned the
flask out properly after its last use - which was probably a year ago
in Iditasport. During the course of vomiting I lost a heck of a lot of
fluid - if it rains it pours. I was now without any water, no stove and
having just thrown up all my bodily retained fluids. I just knew the
next 4 or so hours was going to be "fun". Contrary to all good advice,
I started eating snow. It takes more energy to melt the snow in your
mouth than it is able to help produce once it is in your body - I couldn't
care less - the psychological benefits were enormous and in my opinion
far outweighed any scientific reasoning for not eating the snow.
I continued along the trail and passed a few racers in their bivvy bags
and tents scattered along the side of the trail. Shortly after my debacle
with my stove, I entered a small clearing in the wood. Headtorch lights
were bobbing about just off the trail so I approached the fellow athletes,
if for no other reason but to just talk with them as I hadn't spoken
to anyone for probably the last 8-9 hours (with the exception of the
sweeper - but I don't count that as I was half asleep when he was speaking
to me). The racers turned out to be Eleanor and Alistair Mayne, who I
had the pleasure of training with on one occasion back in Britain prior
to this race. I was additionally pleased to see them as Eleanor had half
a flask of water spare, which I was very grateful to have. It was 14
miles to the checkpoint from this point and they were packing up to leave.
I was now getting cold standing about so I left ahead of them fully aware
that they were faster athletes than myself and that they would shortly
pass me. Sure enough after about 3 miles Eleanor and Alistair caught
up with me and we continued together briefly towards Kynocks. Once again,
I started to feel very fatigued, and with the goal of 300 miles in mind
I decided to again bivvy down. If I had been doing the 100 mile race,
I would have fought the urge to sleep but my ultimate aim was seeing
the finish line at Pelly Crossing at 300 miles and if that was to be
achieved I couldn't risk knackering myself this early in the race. Soon
after midnight, I stopped for a 2 hours rest. In the early hours I awoke,
again packed my kit and continued once again on this never ending section.
I was surprised after a couple of hours to see Eleanor and Alistair bivvying
again on the side of the trail - this made no sense to me as they had
only travelled about 3 hours since their last bivvy and particularly
as they were only about 1 hour away from Kynocks, the next checkpoint.
I am not certain of the full details but I was to find out later that
they had in fact taken a wrong turning and had been found by a fellow
racer going in the wrong direction. Shortly after 6.00am I finally arrived
at Kynocks - a tented checkpoint just over 20 miles from the 100 mile
finish.
A welcome surprise was the sight of the 2 French racers in the 300 mile
race still at the checkpoint. I hadn't anticipating seeing them until
after the race, as their respective C.V's for this type of event were
pretty impressive. Albeit that they were preparing to leave as I was
arriving, I had the benefit of having had a few rests on the way to Kynocks,
so I had no intention of staying here too long.
After 2 hours, I had rested enough, I had made myself a good hot meal
and I had replenished my water supply. Rob Bayman, was preparing to leave
at about the same time as me and offered to wait whilst I got my kit
together. I declined his offer, and explained my strategy of racing alone
and not having to adjust my pace to keep up or slow down for anyone else.
I am sure he thought I was a miserable bugger - but he accepted my answer
and left Kynocks ahead of me. I left Kynocks at 8.15am on Tuesday 11th
February.
Kynocks to Braeburn - 21 miles (100 miles)
I was assured by the checkers at Kynocks that the trail all the way to
Braeburn was nearly all flat and to the greatest extent followed Farm
roads and Forest trails. This was certainly very welcome even though
the now firmer trails caused my foot more discomfort as it was hard
packed - but at least the trail was even. After about another 8 miles
I was again feeling very lethargic and I stopped for a ½ hour
sleep on my sleeping mat. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining
but it was damned cold. I was stopping more often than I have ever
done before in a race - but I kept reminding myself of the ultimate
aim. Without further ado, I continued along the trail. With about 8
miles to go, a short section about 50 yards long of frozen Ice on the
trail was a minor hindrance, and as I stepped carefully along its edge,
I slipped and ended up on my backside. I had landed fairly awkwardly
and a shard of ice cut the palm of my hand. I hadn't seen anyone in
hours - but when I decided to do my acrobatics, to my embarrassment,
it happened to be the very moment one of the support crew was in view.
As I neared Braeburn Lake with only a few miles to the 100 mile checkpoint,
I heard the sound of an approaching snow-machine. As it pull up alongside
I saw Don (the driver - soon to become my hero) together with racer Nick
Lockhart astride the machine - Nick had scratched just outside the Kynocks
checkpoint at 79 miles and was now being taken to the finish line. Soon
after they left, a very steep descent indicated that I was close to Braeburn
lake. On descending the slope one of the poles supporting my sled snapped
and caused my sled to run out of control down the hill. I ended up having
to follow it going backwards. This might have been a major blow anywhere
else on the course - but I was hopeful that at Braeburn I would be able
to borrow a set of sled poles from one of the 100 mile finishers. The
run into the Braeburn checkpoint seemed to go on for ever but eventually
at 4.31pm on Tuesday 11th I eventually crossed the 100 mile finish line.
My time would have placed me 9th in the 100 mile race had I been racing
it and I am sure I could have been significantly faster. I hadn't got
any time to rest on my laurels, I now had the hard task of motivating
myself to get on with my race whilst everyone about me was celebrating
their finish.
The race organiser was a bit concerned with my foot condition and questioned
me on the merits of continuing, but I had given the matter of quitting
a lot of thought and mathematically I could see no reason to quit at
this stage. I had 6 days to cover 200 miles - no problem!!!. However,
my attitude of racing this event had long since gone out of the window - my
aim now was to finish inside the 8 day limit - no more no less.
I also had to sort out the poles on my sled. Rob Bayman came to the rescue - his
poles needed a little bit of adapting, but with his and Don's help I
replaced my broken poles with some super duper conduit poles. All I needed
now was a few hours peace and quiet to sleep. Unfortunately though, sleep
was hard to come by as racers continued to finish and wished to convey
their best wishes to me. I have no complaints about their intentions - but
I really needed to get some sleep. After a couple of hours broken sleep
I decided I might as well get on with the race so at 10.48pm (Tuesday
11th) I set off across the runway that flanks Braeburn Checkpoint and
headed up into the hills.
Braeburn to Fred Lake (actually Ken Lake)
- 43 miles (143 miles)
Leaving Braeburn was as hard mentally as it was physically. I had enjoyed
many conversations with fellow racers in Braeburn (but they were in the
enviable position of having finished and being deservedly jubilant in
their success) and I had witnessed and enjoyed the largest beef burgers
you can imagine. All the other racers in the 300 mile race had long since
gone - it was up to me to now chase after them. Only 4 runners were in
front of me - 2 other British runners in the 300 miler had quit for various
reasons during the course of the first 100 miles. My great friend Andrew
was leading the race, and whilst I was concerned at how fast a pace he
was setting, I was also buzzing with the thought that realistically he
was likely to win this race. I knew this thought was premature as we
had only done 100 miles - but his lead was fairly commanding and I knew
he was sensible enough to know his capabilities and to race accordingly.
He was certainly physically fit and mentally as tough as they come. The
only racer close enough to be a contender was Laszlo Kovacs from Hungary,
but I could see from the splits that he had had a relatively short rest
at Braeburn, so I knew Andrew had the edge.
The trail was now less obvious as I now only had 4 sets of foot prints
to follow. I also found out after the race that the Yukon Quest Dog Race
had bypassed this section because of the poor trail conditions and had
gone by road from Braeburn to Carmacks - 2 Checkpoints away.
After 4 hours on the trail, which was now far more demanding than the
previous 100 miles, both with the severity of the hills and the terrain
underfoot, I was once again falling asleep. I had hoped to go all the
way to Fred Lake without stopping - but my eyes were closing and I was
starting to wobble along the trail. Frustratingly, I was for the umpteenth
time forced to bivvy out. I found a nice tree to sleep under and settled
down for a few hours sleep. My procedures in setting up and repacking
a bivvy were getting faster all the time. It was now taking me about
6 minutes to get into my sleeping system and about 15 minutes to pack
up and go. Benefiting from nearly 2 hours sleep I was once again back
on the trail by 4.30am (Wednesday 12th).
The route continued to rise and fall through rough woodland and meadows
for mile after mile. Again it was comforting to see the sun rise just
after 8.30am. My whole attitude changed dramatically in the light of
day - You could see the wonderful landscape all around with its massive
array of colours, the peace and solitude was something I craved, particularly
in these relatively early stages and generally life couldn't be better.
I had promised myself a stop as soon as the sun rose, but at 8.30am in
the morning I found myself in the middle of a large never ending lake
(Coghlan Lake). The temperatures being markedly colder in this open expanse
that the thoughts of stopping are immediately rejected. An hour later
I was still on the same lake, but the trail passed close to the right
bank where there was a deserted cabin. I pulled myself up the hill off
the lake and proceeded to make some breakfast of dehydrated Egg and Bacon
whilst sat on the veranda of the Cabin overlooking the lake. Half an
hour later I was back on the trail.
Off the lakes the trail turned particularly nasty - the terrain underfoot
was often devoid of snow and now comprised mile upon mile of tufted grass
known affectionately as "Babies Heads". This made progress particularly
tiresome as the sled would often get caught in the foliage and at all
times the sled was being held back by the increased friction that the
grassy tufts caused. Knowing I was last in the race, I had anticipated
seeing the occasional sweeper checking on my progress. I had seen no
one during the night - so I came to the conclusion that they had decided
to check on my progress only during daylight hours. I continued for hour
after hour with no sign of any human life with the exception of the foot
prints of the racers ahead. Occasionally I would stop and try to listen
out for the sound of an approaching snow-machine. Often I thought I could
hear one in the distance, but as time went on I came to realise that
this sound was no more than the quiet whistle of the wind in the trees.
I was in no difficulty, but I was feeling at times quite lonely - the
solitude I craved was now at times becoming difficult to bare.
Later that day, I had been alone for nearly 16 hours, my peace and quiet
was suddenly shattered. A loud and aggressive voice immediately behind
me startled me as an approaching Dog Musher demanded right of way on
the trail. I immediately pulled my sled off to the side as he passed
by without giving any recognition of thanks. My initial reaction that
he was a miserable git soon turned to one of concern, when after going
about 20 yards past me, he stopped and turned his sled on its side to
prevent the dogs from pulling, and promptly blocked the trail completely.
Without a word he eyed me up and down and then proceeded to walk up the
line of dogs totally ignoring my presence. My fears were further compounded
when 1 minute later a snow-machiner, who I thought was going to be one
of the sweepers, turned out to be a friend of the Mushers and now blocked
the trail behind me. Scenes from the film "Deliverance" flashed through
my mind. The Man on the snow-machine pulled up alongside me and started
to ask what I was doing and where I was going. Every ten seconds of the
conversation he would gob out a block glob of tobacco. As the conversation
continued my fear was receding - the Musher was still as ignorant as
ever, but after a few minutes he went on his way and I continued my chat
with my "redneck friend". He obviously knew his way around these trails
so I enquired from him how far Frank Lake was, the start of the chain
lakes leading to the CP at Fred Lake. "Oh about 5 miles...... maybe 10" was
his reply - not very useful to me when I was shattered - I wanted to
know if it was 5 miles or 10 miles. The conversation continued when I
asked how far Fred Lake was beyond Frank Lake - "Oh perhaps 7 miles.....
maybe 12" - It was now as clear as mud - the next CP was between 12 and
22 miles away, I was now less clear as to my progress than I was prior
to meeting him. To further compound my disillusionment, on me telling
him that my destination was the Cabin at Fred Lake, after some considered
thought he replied - "Don't think there is a cabin at Fred Lake". With
everything now totally unequivocally clear in my mind, "my friend" continued
after his Musher mate and I plodded on my way, with my mind running all
sort of calculations as to my position on the trail and distances to
cover.
Shortly after 5.30pm daylight turned to night, and with this changing
so did my mood and attitude. I had reached Frank Lake before night and
I now knew that I was on the chain of lakes known, surprisingly, as Chain
Lakes. What I didn't know was how many Lakes after Frank Lake was Fred
Lake. I continued to cross a number of Lakes some small some very large
and as the night rolled on my mind started running stupid ideas through
my mind. My body was screaming for rest as the relentless trudge continued.
I eventually came to the conclusion that I had missed the Fred Lake Checkpoint - why
hadn't Robert got markers and/or lights indicating where the Cabin was? - where
were the Sweepers? - I could have been dead on the trail and no one would
have known. I was mentally really beating myself up. I decided to say "stuff
the race" - I would continue to Carmacks (the next CP) and tell Robert
what I thought of him and his damn race. At my lowest point, I made the
decision that once I got to the end of the lake I was on I would bivvy
down for a few hours rest and then plod on to Carmacks for my showdown
with the organiser. As I rounded a bend in the Lake, I saw a light flash
on the bank about 500 yards away. All my negative thoughts that had filtered
through my mind over the previous 4 hours immediately disappeared - human
life existed and that flash of light was bound to be the Checkpoint.
As I proceed towards where the light had flashed after about a minute
a permanent light replaced it. 5 minutes later I ascended the steep climb
off the Lake to the sanctuary of the Fred Lake Checkpoint. It was now
10.10pm (Wednesday 12th)
I was met by a sole helper manning the checkpoint - I was so relieved
to be here - it had been one heck of a long day. The checkpoint turned
out not to be on Fred Lake but was actually Ken Lake - not that this
made any difference to me, except for the fact, I found out later that
Fred Lake might have been one Lake earlier.
Murray was manning the checkpoint and was one of the people meant to
be sweeping the course. Whilst I wasn't too concerned that I hadn't seen
a sweeper at all since Braeburn I was amused to be told by Murray that
the reason he hadn't come looking for me was due to the fact that a certain
Musher and accompanying snow-machiner had informed him that I was about
5 miles away (perhaps 10) - when in fact I was nearer 17 miles out from
the CP. Also during my conversation with Murray, he informed me that
Andrew was going to quit at Carmacks - I knew this was total rubbish - he
was going too well, from what I could tell from the sign in and out sheets,
for that to be a consideration. It was such a relief to be in the warm
of the cabin and I was going to allow myself about 5 hours rest here.
After a quick and totally uninspiring meal of inedible stew and very
edible bread rolls I retired to the Bunk Beds that flanked the Cabin
to snatch 3 hours sleep.
Ken Lake to Carmacks - 38 miles (181 miles)
I awoke at 2.30am and in the light of my headtorch I proceeded to pack
up my kit in the warmth of the Cabin. By 3.00am (Thursday 13th) I was
back on the lake and proceeding towards the next CP at Carmacks. Initially
the trail was very similar to that which I had experienced during the
latter part of the preceding stage - Long stretches of Lakes with small
wooded sections interspersed. My progress, with the benefit of a bit
of sleep, was far brisker. However, by 6.30am the bit of sleep was
proving not to have been enough. I was falling asleep on my feet. My
eyes were closing and I desperately wanted to lie down and rest. I
was in the middle of a particularly large lake and I promised myself
that once I reached the far side I would catch an hour or two's rest.
My eyes weren't having that - In the darkness I couldn't see the shadow
of the end of the Lake and eventually I was forced to bivvy out in
the middle of the Lake. This scenario is not ideal as the temperatures
are markedly colder in these open expanses - but I had no choice. 4
minutes later I was snuggled up in my bivvy bag. As I lay there I could
here the worrying deadening sound of Ice around me cracking - but I
was past caring. I slept for 1½ hours and in the bitter cold
I packed my kit up and was back on the trail within 11 minutes. (What
had initially taken me 35 minutes to do at CP 1 was now taking me only
11 minutes). Soon after leaving the site of my bivvy the Sun rose above
the surrounding hills and again I was blessed with a beautiful clear
day albeit very cold. It took a further hour to reach the end of the
Lake - this was the last lake on this section - I now had about 25-30
miles of woodland trails to look forward to.
Slowly but surely the miles were being ticked off. The trail through
the woods was generally fairly level with the occasional rise and fall - but
nothing of any real consequence. I was having an absolute ball - the
trail was good, I felt good, the weather was good, the scenery was fantastic
and for the first time since mile 18 my foot was causing me no pain whatsoever.
I starting composing songs in my head to wile away the hours. My singing
abilities leave a lot to be desired -but the area I was in was so remote
and no one was about to hear that very soon my singing became more vocal
as I sang these stupid songs as I went along. As mid afternoon approached
I went through one particular clearing and thought to myself "what a
wonderful place to have a rest". I wasn't tired so continued on. After
about 100 yards I thought "bugger that" and turned around and went back
to the spot that I found so appealing. I was enjoying myself so much
and I had resigned myself to finishing this race only - then why not
enjoy it. I put my duvet jacket on and fell asleep on my sled for ½ hour.
Later in the day the trail dropped down to the Yukon River. I had been
warned that at this point the River was not very frozen and that in fact
a number of Ice Bridges had collapsed. To avoid these dangers the trail
had been emergency routed up the bank on a 3 mile diversion (adding about
1 mile to the route) on some poor manmade paths. Sure enough at about
3.30pm I approached a red ribbon across the trail with a hand written
note attached indicating the way for us to go. I look in the direction
it indicated and thought "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE JOKING". The so called trail
went nigh on vertically up for about 300 yards (that was as far as I
could see) and this had to be done pulling behind a sled weighing about
35-40 lbs. There was little time to moan about it and in any case there
was no one to moan about it to - so it was head down and plod up. At
least I had the satisfaction of knowing the racers in front of me had
gone up this route - so therefore it was possible. Surprisingly, I ascended
this trail in relatively quick time - knowing full well that one slip
would without doubt see me descend the same route in doubly quick time.
Disappointingly, on finishing the ascent of the 300 yards or so I was
then faced with a further ascent of equal magnitude this time of perhaps
150 yards. Again no time to dwell on my situation - the job had to be
done. On completion of this second steep ascent the path continued to
rise and fall, often very steeply - but perversely I was enjoying this
section as much as any part of the race so far. After about an hour the
trail finally dropped back down to the bank of the Yukon River once again.
I was back on the more established trail and knew I wasn't far from Carmacks.
As I proceeded along the trail, once again the night rolled in and once
again my mood changed for the worse. I knew from the organiser's trail
description that Carmacks wasn't far from the Ice bridges that we had
taken the detour to avoid - but after an hour I was again questioning
myself. Should I have turned left when I came back down to the Yukon? "Don't
be daft - you could only turn right!" - but there were these nagging
doubts that festered in the darkness of night. Eventually, I topped a
small hillock on the trail and in the distance I could see the lights
of Carmacks. Immediately my negative thoughts disappeared as they had
done the previous night. I crossed one lake that was shrouded in mist
and then skirted the Yukon River to arrive at the Carmacks CP at 7.50pm
(Thursday 13th).
Over the past 2 days I had only seen 3 people - the Musher and his friend
and Murray at the checkpoint. Apart from the trail left by the runners
in front of me, I had not seen or heard any other sign of Human existence,
not even the vapour trail of a aeroplane overhead. I suppose this is
not really surprising when you consider that the Yukon is about twice
the size of Britain and has a population of only 31,000 people of which
22,000 live in or around Whitehorse, the principal town.
On arrival at the CP I was met by the ever cheerful Steve Bowron. Steve
was entered in the 300 mile but due to injury and poor shoes choice had
had to quit earlier in the race. However, he had decided to stay with
the race and help support the organiser together with his wife Nicola,
who had been with the support crew from the start. The checkpoint was
in a modern Recreational Centre, luxury compared to most of the CP to
date, and as we entered, Steve informed me that Andrew had scratched.
On hearing this news I felt numb. My mind went into overdrive - Had he
definitely quit?...Could I persuade him to continue with me?...Could
I put some of his kit on my sled and for us to continue together?...Was
his reason for quitting a mental or physical problem?...etc. etc. I needed
to speak to Andrew to obtain these answers, however, Andrew had gone
off somewhere and wasn't likely to be back for some while. Going into
the room where the checkpoint staff were concentrated, I received a pleasant
surprise when I once again saw the 2 Frenchmen and was further informed
that Laszlo was upstairs asleep. I had planned on only having a 4 hour
stop here and therefore had caught up considerably with the frontrunners.
I was now very much back in a competitive situation - if I cut my rest
by an hour and if the Frenchies and Laszlo didn't leave for an hour (which
was likely as they weren't packed) - their lead would only be 2 hours - my
mind went into overdrive calculating my options - a quick decision needed
to be made.
That decision came very quickly when Steve announced that he was going
down the Pub which was about 200 yards from the checkpoint. I had been
competing in this race with the sole intention of purely finishing since
mile 18 and therefore with the added incentive of a few pints I made
the snap decision to join Steve down the pub and to take a few more hours
rest at this checkpoint, than initially intended, in order to avoid any
temptation to race. A few pints later and a massive meal of fried chicken
and mojo's (potato wedges with cheese), I returned to the recreational
centre with Andrew, who had now returned. Andrew's situation was as serious
as it could be and under no circumstances could he continue - he had
stress fractures on both shins - he had been suffering with this problem
since about Braeburn and the fact that he had continued for another 81
miles is as much heroic as it is stupid. I have known Andrew for 12 years
but for the first time I was at a loss as to what to say. Andrew had
been leading the race commandingly and without a doubt in my mind would
have held his lead to the end. He scratched with an 11 hour lead which
made his decision all the harder. To say he was depressed is an understatement - but
I couldn't dwell on his problem (as much as I really wanted to) I had
my own race to finish and I was now the only Brit left in the race. I
had a quick shower, sorted out my kit from the drop bag and settled down
for 4 hours sleep. The 4 hours turned to 5 and shortly before 5.00am
I awoke and quickly dressed and packed my sled for departure. I finally
left Carmacks at 5.30am (Friday 14th).
Carmacks to McCabe - 35 miles (216 miles)
Gary, the main sweeper, lead the way out of Carmacks on his snow-machine
as he was concerned that I wouldn't find the trail that leads off the
Yukon river about 1 mile out of town. His concerns were well founded
as the markers that indicate the route had in recent hours been removed.
At the start of the trail, I was concerned about my foot again and
informed Gary of my predicament - it was hurting as much as ever and
therefore my progress was being tested. From here the trail followed
a minor road covered in snow for the next 13 miles and was generally
rising all the time. Occasionally there would be a down hill and on
one particular hill which was steep enough and long enough to warrant
it, I tried a new method of travel - I sat on my sled, put the sled
poles over my shoulders and used the sled for its intended purpose
and slid at speed down the slope. At first I was all over the place - but
soon I learnt to use my feet as rudders. There were only 2 hills where
this was possible and only one of these was any good - but from now
on I was going to be looking for any opportunity, particularly if it
was going to speed up my progress but also it would save my foot from
the pounding it was receiving. After about 4 hours the trail left the
road and continued on the more familiar forest trails. The problem
with my foot had for some reason disappeared and wonderfully didn't
reappear for the rest of the race. A short way along this trail I met
up with Don, who had come out to check up on my progress (particularly
in mind of the fact that I had earlier informed his fellow sweeper,
Gary, of the foot problem). I was delighted to inform him of the miraculous
recovery and that I couldn't have felt better. With this good news
he disappeared leaving me to get on with the remaining 20 miles or
so to the checkpoint at McCabe. Before leaving Don told me that for
the first time they would put out a 5 mile marker from McCabe, which
would be a wonderful psychological boost when we reached it.
The trail at first was slightly undulating and relatively easy going.
I had been warned that this wouldn't always be the case on this section,
and surely enough after about 5 miles the descents and hills got steeper
and rougher. At times on the descents I tried the sledging method but
only on 2 occasions was this done with any real positive success. Much
of the time I tended to be bouncing off rocks or floundering in the overgrowth
on the side of the trail. Again the route dropped down to the Yukon River,
where the trail prepared on top of the ice was incredibly rough particularly
as the whole section was carved through masses of broken and refrozen
ice blocks. The snow was starting to fall and the trail of footsteps
that I had been following were disappearing. Traipsing through this section,
often I would lose the trail and end up facing an impassable blockage
of ice. After about 1½ miles on the ice the trail returned to
the woodland for a further 5 or 6 miles of very undulating rough snow
paths. I was now feeling absolutely shattered, but I knew I still had
about 8 or so miles to go. Once again the trail dropped onto the Yukon
and as before I endured about 1 mile of horrible rough ice trail which
jolted my body as the sled crashed and fell behind me over the ice blocks.
After what seemed like an eternity, I left the river for what I hoped
was the last time in this stage, and ascended a narrow path back into
the woods. As day was turning to night, I finally passed the "5 mile
to go" sign but any boost to my speed on seeing this was not forthcoming.
The trail was rough but fairly level - but no matter how hard I tried
I couldn't find any speed - I was running on vapours and my sled felt
incredibly heavy behind me. Shortly before 10.00pm I once again arrived
at the Yukon, but this time only to cross the 200 yards of rough ice
to the other side. On reaching the other side I had arrived at the McCabe
CP.
It was a feeling I was going to have to get used to - I was shattered
but I had to find the mental and physical strength to go on.
The McCabe CP comprised 2 buildings - The first being a workshop where
the support crew had some food and drink ready for me. The second being
a small cabin where I could get some peace and quiet for some much needed
sleep.
In the light of the workshop the reason for my sled being so heavy became
blatantly apparent. The length of my sled had been split which caused
a great deal of resistance on the trail but additionally allowed a lot
of snow to accumulate in the base of the sled. I had been carrying (I
guess) between 10 and 15lbs of unwanted snow, probably for some considerable
time. The split had undoubtedly been caused by my reckless sledging over
the rock covered trail earlier in the day. The damage to my sled could
have been disastrous, but luck favoured me - Andrew's sled was identical
to mine, with the exception of the strapping, and with a bit of adjustment
could replace mine. Don, Andrew and Steve offered to sort my sled out
whilst I went to get some rest - an offer too good to refuse. I retired
to the cabin for 5 hours sleep.
Waking shortly after 4.30am, I dressed and packed up my sleeping kit
and returned back to the workshop. On entering the building my heart
dropped as I saw my sled untouched in front of me. Don, Andrew and Steve
were sleeping on the floor of the workshop and my initial reaction was
to give them a good kick for leaving me in the lurch like this. But on
closer inspection, I realised they had butchered Andrews sled using tools
lying around the workshop and made an identical copy of my design - the
relief was amazing and my admiration for my 3 saviours was unquestionable.
After a quick cup of coffee and packing my new sled I finally left McCabe
at 5.30am (Saturday 16th).
McCabe to Pelly Crossing - 35 miles (251
miles)
Don led the way for me out of McCabe, driving in his 4 wheel drive truck.
Initially the trail followed the farm track for 1 mile out to the main
highway and then turned left to run parallel with the highway for the
next 5 miles. It was early in the morning and not surprisingly in this
wilderness the highway was empty. I decided, like all the racers in front,
to stay on the road as the firm base covered with ice and snow allowed
swift progress. Don had parked his vehicle at the point where the trail
leaves the highway and left his lights on as a beacon for me to aim for.
The road was straight and flat and therefore the lights were visible
for nearly the whole of the 5 miles. Eventually I arrived at this point
and headed off on a cross country trail towards Pelly Crossing. I had
been fairly quick over the initial 6 miles due to the favourable terrain - but
now, off the road, my progress slowed considerable. The trail varied
between reasonable paths to non existent trails where navigation became
a concern. Thankfully, daylight broke and the concerns with losing my
way lessened.
Will power alone was now driving me - I had gone beyond physical tiredness
and it was now purely a stubborn mental issue as to whether I would finish
this race or not. A particular treat along this section was the high
proportion of animal footprints. Not being native to this area, I had
no idea what most of the prints indicated, but later, on questioning
a trapper at Pelly Farms I believe the prints on view included wolverine
(pound for pound the most vicious animal out there), lynx and a particularly
large animal with a 4 padded print. These latter prints puzzled me for
a while until I worked out that in fact they belonged to a rabbit whose
method of running resulted in its 2 rear feet landing immediately behind
its 2 front feet making what appeared to be 1 large print.
From the break of day I had promised myself a sleep at midday - but as
was now becoming custom - at that particular time I found myself midway
across yet another large lake (Von Wilczek Lakes), and therefore it wasn't
until shortly after 1.00pm that I reached the far side and my much needed
stop. My stop in total lasted 1½ hours and now slightly refreshed
I plodded on. Within 5 minutes of departure Don and Andrew came flying
along the trail towards me on their snow-machine. Even after only 5 minutes
I was grateful for the stop and further rest whilst I chatted with them
and drank the coke they brought out for me. I was so chuffed to see Andrew,
even though he looked so totally cheesed off. I couldn't stand there
too long (albeit I would have loved to) as I was getting cold, so I said
my good byes.
The trail continued for the next 15 miles through a succession of lakes
divided by rough wooded section varying from a mile to several miles
in length. My progress was steady but constant. I had optimistically
wanted to be in Pelly Crossing before night, but with about 4 miles to
go darkness descended around me. Unlike other evenings, I was close enough
to my destination to not have the unpleasant depressions that I had suffered
previously in the dark. With 2 miles to go, I could see in the distance
the lights of Pelly Crossing and slowly but surely I made my way towards
them. Don had accurately assessed my progress and with about ½ mile
to go he came out on the trail in his truck to meet me and guide me into
the CP. At 7.10pm (Saturday 15th) I arrived at Pelly Crossing.
When Don and Andrew had met me earlier in the day I had cheekily requested
fried chicken to be available at the CP. To their word, within minutes
of my arrival a plate full of chicken was in front of me together with
2 can of beer. This was soon followed by another plate of chicken. I
was heaven.
The CP comprised one small room that served as a bedroom with 2 beds
and an area to one side acting as a kitchen and an en-suite Bathroom
off. With myself, Andrew, Steve, Nicola and the occasional sweeper all
trying to use the room, space was at a premium. I needed to be back out
on the trail by midnight and therefore in the interim I desperately needed
to get some sleep. One of the beds was made available to me, but even
though everyone around me was trying to be quiet, my attempts to sleep
were in the main in vain. I probably only slept for about ½ an
hour in the 3 hours available to me. Just after 11.30pm I dressed, repacked
my sled and left Pelly Crossing at 11.59pm.
Pelly Crossing to Pelly Farms - 30 miles
(281 miles)
The temperature on the thermometer outside the room said it was -33ºF
and I was dressed accordingly. My face was completely covered with face
mask and goggles -any exposed skin was at risk. I was also wearing an
extra pair of down trousers and two extra tops - one fleece and one thermal.
And still I was cold. Don accompanied over the first few hundred yards
onto the Pelly River, which was going to be the trail for the next 30
miles. As we dropped onto the river the temperature dropped noticeable.
By my estimations it must have been -40ºF.
The trail was generally very even (unlike the Yukon in previous days)
but in places the trail had to divert from bank to bank to avoid thin
ice and open water. Within 2 hours of leaving, the lack of sleep at Pelly
Crossing was catching up on me. It was -40ºF and all I wanted to
do was stop and sleep. I fought the urge as long as I could - but to
no avail. As soon as the trail passed close enough to the bank I headed
off the trail through virgin snow and bivvied under a bush for 2 hours.
Shortly before 5.00am I was back on the river, refreshed and at last
making headway with my eyes open.
For the first time in this race I now started using my GPS (handheld
bit of technology - the size of a mobile phone - that uses the satellites
circling the globe to pinpoint your location and that of your destination) - not
for any navigational concerns but purely as an indicator of how far I
had to go. The machine measures in a straight line, whilst the river
meandered wildly - but it was an indicator of my progress. Every hour
or so I would have a look at the GPS and depending on whether the last
section had been particularly straight or meandering my mood would be
happy or miserable. I am not sure that using the GPS in this particular
race has any merit - but it took my mind off the pain and tiredness in
my body, if only briefly.
The frontrunners were already at Pelly Farms as I was about half way
alomg the river, so during most of the day I was the only athlete progressing
up the trail. The result of which was that I enjoyed 2 visits from the
sweepers, Don and Gary with passenger Steve. Their visits were a tonic.
Earlier in the race I had craved solitude - now all I wanted was company.
On their last visit I was about 5 miles from Pelly Farms and feeling
good. I was informed that the Owner of Pelly Farms was expecting my arrival
and that no one from the race organisation would be there. I was further
told that when I got there to make my way to the building on the right
encircled with wooden railing and if no one was there to go on into the
house and make myself at home. With this information in mind with all
due haste I plodded on. Shortly before Pelly Farms the trail led straight
into a large, recently opened, area of water on the river. Like the runners
in front I had to make a diversion over the virgin snow to avoid this
hazard.
Finally at 5.00pm I caught sight of Pelly Farms in the distance (reminiscent
of a scene from "A little House on the prarie") and eventually at 5.35pm
I ascended off the river and made my way to the building on the right
encircled with railings.
Arriving at the door, not wishing to be rude, I knocked but received
no reply - so went in. I was in a large porch and a further door was
ahead with steps leading up to it. Again I knocked on this door and again
received no reply - so I went in. Just as I was going in a man came around
the corner from the Kitchen, scaring the life out of me in the process
and welcomed me in. He introduced himself as Dale and informed me that
his wife was away shopping (nearest shops 200 miles away in Whitehorse)
and wouldn't be back for 2 days. As he made me a cup of coffee, two further
hardened farmer types entered the House, Uncle Huwey and Bruce. The welcome
they gave me was fantastic - but unfortunately, as with all the CP, all
I wanted to do was get some sleep and leave. After a plateful of Spag
Bog I was shown upstairs where I hoped to get 2 hours sleep. I was asleep
before my head hit the pillow.
At 7.45pm the alarm on my watch woke me up. I quickly got my sleeping
kit packed and went downstairs. Dale was in the corner of the Living
Room bartering over some Cow hides and potatoes with a trapper whilst
Bruce was sat at the table pondering over a 1000 piece jigsaw which was
nearly all just variations of blue without a photo to work from. I wanted
to leave fairly quickly, but ended up chatting with Pete (trapper), Dale
and Bruce about all manner of things including animal footprints to the
merits of Hereford and Charolais Cattle. I eventually left at 8.45pm
(Sunday 16th) - the final stage to the finish line was the 30 mile long
farm road to Pelly Crossing.
Pelly Farms to Pelly Crossing - 30 miles
(311 miles)
I was now on the final leg - my spirits were high as the finish was in
reach - only 30 miles to go and I was going to finish. I was going to
be fourth in the race, but more importantly I was going to achieve what
I set out to do and that was cross the finish line. To boost my moral
even more, I was going to be the first Brit to finish the race which
was an unlikely scenario 7 days earlier when I stood on the start line - but
I confess, the thought had crossed my mind some months earlier when I
had hoped to be competitive. All these thoughts seemed appropriate but
were slightly premature.
I left the Farm feeling strong - but there again I left all the CP's
feeling strong. The trail to the finish rises 1950ft in total elevation
gain and then drops 1850ft to the finish. I planned on using my sledging
abilities on some of the descents, partly out of fun but also because
it was hopefully going to be the fastest means of travel. After 2 miles
of level road from the farm the trail started its long ascent, which
Dale had informed me was best part of 5 miles long, but would also continue
to rise more inconsistently for a further 7-10 miles. Sure enough the
trail went up and up. My mind was buzzing in anticipation of the descents
to come, because this ascent would have been wonderful to have slid down
had we been going in the opposite direction.
In an earlier conversation with Don on the river, he had promised to
come out and see me on the trail back to Pelly Crossing and true to his
word shortly before midnight the light of his truck approached me along
the farm road. Accompanying Don was Andrew and Robert, and it was wonderful
to see them, because at the moment of their arrival I was going through
a particularly hard patch wanting yet again to curl up and sleep. I had
a quick cup of strong black coffee supplied by Robert which seemed to
do the trick and with an added skip in my step I continued. To my surprise
and pleasure, Don and his motley crew decided they were going to stay
out all night with me and follow me every half an hour.
This procession along the wood bordered farm road continued into the
early hours - I would bound on for half an hour and they would drive
and catch me up - I would have a drink of Roberts Coffee and then the
process would continue once again. The coffee helped to stave off the
menace of sleep, but eventually I succumb. With little warning I went
from a good steady pace to dead on my feet. I had to stop. So between
meetings I dived off the trail and was in my Bivvy within 4 minutes leaving
a flashing red beacon to indicate my presence, and was asleep before
the truck caught up with me. I had left instructions with Don to wake
me within 1½ hours should this happen.
I woke up myself after 1½ hours and with the added adrenalin rush
of Don startling me when he came to wake me, I was up and on my feet
within minutes and on my way.
I had a few slides down a few small hills but nothing too spectacular.
I was still waiting in eager anticipation for a real monster of a downhill
that would take me all the way to the finish - but sadly this was not
forthcoming. As daylight broke my slow procession was bolstered by the
addition of Gary in his truck together with his motley crew comprising
Steve and Nicola. I felt a certain degree of embarrassment having all
these people following my every step. Don was now following me all the
time, whilst Gary would drive on every 1km to give me an indication of
my progress. It was wonderful to have this support and without them I
would have struggled tremendously over the last 10 miles or so - but
I was going so slow and no matter how hard I tried I had absolutely nothing
left in the tank - not even vapours.
Approaching Pelly Crossing (about 3 miles out) I could see Gary's vehicle
parked up about 150 yards ahead of me. I could also see 2 legs under
the car and knew that it was Steve about to come out from behind the
vehicle to moon me or something equally stupid. As I approached, Dale
and Pete from Pelly Farms happened to go by me just as Steve decided
to jump out semi naked. To this day I am not sure who was most surprised,
as Steve darted back behind the vehicle but with nowhere to hide as Dale
and Pete drove by.
From here on in Steve (now thankfully dressed) joined me in walking to
the line. I had vowed to run the last mile and with the benefit of my
GPS I indicated to Steve the point from where I intended to run. As we
passed the point we both broke into a run but after about 20 yards I
said "stuff that" I just couldn't do it. No matter how much I wanted
to finish this monster running , physically I just wasn't capable.
Finally we turned a corner off the farm road and I could see the bridge
over the Pelly River 100 yards ahead. The finish was 100 yards the other
side of the bridge. As I crossed the bridge I mustered a final run to
the line. My finishing time was 7 days 21 hours and 5 minutes.
The elation at finishing is like nothing I have ever felt before - I
was so damned relieved. Marc, Gerard and Laszlo came out to meet me as
did everyone else involved in the race. What a wonderful feeling.
After a few minutes of backslapping I retired to the bedroom that had
been the CP 36 hours earlier. A plate of chicken was sat waiting for
me together with 6 cans of beer, a small bottle of Champagne and chocolate
by the bucket full. I was like a pig in strawberries. A hot bath had
also been run for me, to which I quickly retired and sat in the warm
water drinking champers and thinking life was brilliant. By the time
I had washed and changed, the trucks had been packed and with no more
ceremony we all left in various vehicles for the 170 mile drive back
to Whitehorse.
Whitehorse
We arrived back in Whitehorse in the late afternoon. I had slept most
of the way, except for the brief stop at Braeburn for another bash
at their extraordinarily big beefburgers. At last I was back in the
Hotel and my first real opportunity to talk with Andrew. It was so
difficult - I wanted to scream from the roof tops that I had finished
the race, but couldn't because Andrew was so down. It was a real case
of life being unfair - I had gone into this race with an injury that
in all likelihood would prevent me from finishing, whilst Andrew had
arrived in the Yukon as fit as can be, without a care in the world.
To add insult to injury he had been stopped when winning the race - and
commandingly so too. My usual blunt talking had to take a back seat
for 24 hours while I tried to choose my words carefully in Andrew presence.
Andrew is the best mate anyone can ask for and thankfully after 24
hours he was back in his normal frame of mind and I could return to
my normal frank talking.
Back Home
As at the time of writing this report, Andrew has vowed to return next
year to Whitehorse to put matters right. Fellow racers Steve and Shirley
have similarly indicated that come 2004 they too will be on the start
line for the 300.
Whilst I promised myself during the last few days of the race never to
do anything as hard ever again, I think it is highly likely that I might
also be in Whitehorse next year , but this time to race the monster.
I had what most would consider as a good race - and bearing in mind my
physical condition prior to flying the Atlantic I suppose I am bound
to agree. However, I learnt a lot out in the Yukon this year, which,
if I could utilise, under good race conditions would see me finish this
race in 6 days.
Additional Information
? The race started with 8 racers in the 300 and 19 racers in the 100. On completion
5 racers finished the 300 and 17 the 100.
? From Britain I was the only competitor to finish the 300 race coming in 4th
out of the runners - being beaten by 2 Frenchmen (Marc Perrier and Gerard Verdenet)
and 1 Hungarian (Laszlo Kovaks). The first three runners finished together having
raced together over the last 128 miles from Carmacks.
? The trail conditions were far from ideal this year - and certainly made the
2002 Iditasport trail look tame by comparison - lack of snow made progress pulling
a sled particularly tedious. However, whatever the conditions there are always
going to be both positive and negative attributes that will affect the racer.
? The temperature variations during the course of the race were considerable.
On the Tuesday the snow on the trees was melting but by the following Saturday
the temperature had plummeted to -40ºF.
? During the course of the race I lost 14 lbs in weight. I was surprised it wasn't
more - as I wasn't eating particularly well during the race.
Thanks
As with all my races, I wouldn't be there without the support of friends,
family and others. No doubt I will miss someone off the list, please
tell me if I do. My thanks go to:-
? My wife Karen and my wonderful children Emily, Jack and Barnaby. My children
are now getting used to me going away, but the welcome I receive on my return
doesn't get any less. Barnaby, who is now 2, for the first time noticed I was
away.
? The Cancer Research group from Hay-on-Wye, for who I was raising money. Their
enthusiasm before the race was fantastic, their confidence in my ability to finish
the race was completely naïve. It appears they kept the town of Hay aware
of my exploits in the Yukon and embellished any stories returning from there
to an extent that my foot is now famous within the town.
? My work colleagues, Joy, Chris and Sarah. I publicly apologise to you for not
being on top of my job in the period leading up to the race. I think you are
probably getting used to me by now.
? Tim, who with is undoubted engineering skills, prepared my sled.
? My training partners in the run up to the race - Andrew Barnett and Shirley
Thompson. I owe you both big time.
? F.W.Golesworthy and Son in Hay. An Aladdin's cave for kit. In previous races
I have often travelled far and wide to find specialist kit - never once thinking
it could be available in Hay. How stupid I feel now. Nearly every bit of specialist
kit I required could be found in this amazing shop. Thanks Mary for the bits
of discount - I won't tell Robert.
? Last but certainly not least - A massive thanks to all the support staff and
organisers of this race. You have a lot to be proud of. This is by far the most
enjoyable race I have participated in and that is to the greatest part due to
you. Cheers - beers on me in Whitehorse when I come back next year. It probably
isn't fair to pull certain people out - but unfortunately I have to - Don and
Gary you were absolute stars - I wouldn't have finished without your help. Robert,
you can be proud of yourself - absolutely fantastic event - I will spread the
word.
Charity
As stated above, in doing this race it seemed quite sensible to add a
bit of fund raising for charity on top. In previous races I have done
this myself, but on top of the training required to participate in
these types of events, such fund raising has in the past proved hard
work. This time I was blessed with the support from the Hay group for
Cancer Research. What a blessing! At the time of writing this report
I believe we have raised in the region of £2,000 but any further
donations are very welcome.
Further Information
If anyone want any further information regarding this race or to make
any contribution to Cancer Research please do not hesitate to contact
me on:-
Martin Like
Tryweryn
Hay-on-Wye
Hereford
HR3 5EN
Tel No - (01497) 821514
Email - martin@littlefatwelshman.com
Thanks |
