Splash and Dash (Part 7)

When we arrived at the check point where we would transition from bike to kayak at about 6:30 in the morning, we were met by Ivan Parks, who told us that he would probably short course us.  This is not unheard of in adventure racing which is a sport where to finish at all is regarded as an achievement. Short coursing happens in all expedition length races.  This doesn't mean that you are disqualified or that you drop out or don't finish.  You still cross the finish line but it simply means that you are not expected to be able to complete the full course in the allotted time frame of the race.  What it does mean however, is that the teams that are short coursed are given time penalties in a handicapping system that prevents the travesty of a team that is short coursed beating a team that is doing the full course.  In terms of distance, for us, in the end, it knocked about 15km off the total full mandatory course.

Right that explanation over, I will get back to sharing my adventure with you!

We whizzed into the transition area, full of the knowledge that we were racing against the clock and we needed to be quick.  We had been fairly slow in our other transitions and we knew we needed to sort this out.  Although when we planned for the race, Andy was going to take on the role of chivvying everyone through transition, in a quiet conversation, Andy  and I had had during the race, he stated that felt unable to do that, he was finding it difficult to boss the Phillips family about.  So, at the transition I simply turned on Mummy Nag Mode.  And it worked!  Apparently, I don't find it hard to boss my family about!

I was chivvying those men and nagging Ross and Will like I was born to it which I guess I was.  I had noticed that at transition Ross likes to do everything for everyone  (which is very kind) but consequently holds everyone up because he hasn't got his own stuff done (which is very frustrating) .  Will unpacks his whole bag and repacks it and Andy stands around, ready to go getting frustrated and impatient. If I am cold, I get really slow and incapable but otherwise I can be fairly quick...

This time in transition, Andy and I attached kayak seats and he sorted PFDs while Ross and Will dismantled bikes.  I reconstituted 4 packets of dehydrated pasta and mince with hot water and presented this to my ungrateful team mates.  Well, I thought they were ungrateful until I tasted it.  It was the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten.  Heartburn in a bag.  There is a fantastic photo of Andy on the sleep monsters website looking like he is eating poison or poo!  His face is a picture of horror and disgust.  He was eating "with long teeth"!  Will perversely, or should that be typically, enjoyed it.  This caused a great deal of good natured bickering about the meal which also found mention on the Sleep Monsters website....we weren't really arguing as was reported, it was just a frank exchange of views on the food!

Several of the other teams who were in the transition at the same time as us appeared to be having quite a long rest.  Not us though.  We were ready to go very quickly and one of the marshals told me that we had had one of the fastest transitions at that area that he had seen.  I was rallying my troops well and properly then!  I seem to have found my niche in the team... Transition Nag!

We marched over to our kayaks, where Andy and I had stashed the backpacks on them already.  We were to port our kayaks about 150m across a road down to the river.  That was all well and good in theory but have you ever tried to lift a tank?!  I willingly went to my end of the kayak, Ross at the other end.

"OK go!"  I commanded.  Ross's end lifted clear of the ground, mine stayed firmly where it was.  Try as I might I couldn't lift the thing.  I could see Ross getting frustrated at the other end, not to mention the veins popping out on his neck where he was holding the dead weight of the kayak up.  I got it up finally using two hands and started to walk backwards feeling as though my arms were to rip out of their sockets. Suddenly one of the marshals had mercy on me and came along and took my end of the kayak and he and Ross walked it down to the water's edge. I am eternally grateful to that kind man!

We launched into the water from the shore with a mighty shove from behind by a marshal, a warning ringing in our ears, to be careful as they had already 'had a few swimmers'.  We listened to their instructions and made for the middle arch of the bridge where the water was flowing rapidly.  The current was strong and got stronger the further downstream we went.  It was turning into a beautiful morning, there was a light breeze, it was a bit chilly but the sun was starting to break through the clouds.

We had been told that there were several weirs to go down and that the biggest two, which happened to be the last two would be marshalled.   This would be the first time I had ever really paddled on moving water.  With the exception of a couple of short sea paddles and a tiny paddle on the Thames, the majority of my paddling has been done on flat water or dams.  I was rather looking forward to it.  The idea of going over a weir was a little daunting but having leapt off a waterfall, I felt I could face this.

I loved it, despite the nerves I was feeling at the beginning of the race.  Going over the little rapids and the weirs was fun!  This doesn't mean their weren't mishaps, it wouldn't be my story if there weren't...

We got through the first weir with no problem and I heard a whoop of joy escape my lips!  We paddled on towards the second weir.  This was a bit bigger and seemed to be faster flowing.  This was when we made a mistake.  Instead of paddling over it straight away we decided to approach cautiously to have a look and decide the best route to take.  Error!  We managed to get ourselves side-on to the weir.  That was when the current took us and swept us, desperately flaying our paddles, over the weir and tipped us unceremoniously out of our boat. River 1- Ross and Emma 0.

We were thrashing about trying to right the kayak and climb in when Will and Andy sailed over it with no problem, raucously laughing at us... Hah!  Their time was coming....

We righted ourselves and carried on downstream enjoying the trip.  In no time at all we came along side Andy and Will.  Will was groaning and complaining of cramping abs (abdominal muscles).  I suggested, that he lie back and stretch them out which he did looking a bit like a sun tanning lizard while Andy had to paddle both of them for a bit.  Both kayaks negotiated several more weirs, without mishap.  The weirs seemed to be increasing in size and ferocity as we went down the river.  It was quite a challenge to avoid all the obstacles and hazards under the surface and both boats were occasionally perched on top of unseen rocks or sand/stone banks. 

However, we were getting better at reading the river and choosing which route to take. We got to one low shoot under a tree.  There wasn't really an alternative route, so we had to get the boat at just the right angle and to lie back, flat against the boat as we slid rapidly under the tree.  Ross used his paddle as a stern rudder as we brushed, without incident under the tree.  It was a tricky thing to negotiate and so we got ourselves out of the fast flowing water and dug our paddles into the water, to stop us floating down-stream as we shouted instructions to Andy and Will.

It's a pity they didn't listen....

There was a high pitched girly shriek from their craft as the tree grabbed hold of Will's earring (we had told him to removed all jewellery before the race) and ripped it from his ear. Fortunately, his earlobe wasn't shredded by it.  They hit the shoot all wrong and were flung from their kayak into the cold water.  Although it must be noted that Andy now claims that this was a strategic dunking so that he could swallow gallons of river water to deal with the indigestion-inducing rehydrated breakfast that was slowly burning a hole in his gut! 

With insincere calls of, "Are you all right?"(well, they did laugh at us!!)  we watched them struggle to climb back in their boat and we all carried on. All this good natured ragging is good for team morale.

Several more weirs down and we came to one that almost had the better of us. Looking at the flow of water we realised the best route would take us under a bridge that was so low even I would have to lie flat and so narrow that we would have to hold our paddles parallel with the side of the kayak.  The problem came when as I lay back and tried to swing my paddle horizontal and parallel with the kayak the speed of the water took us by surprise and I managed to get my paddle wedged across the roof and sides of the opening.  With panicky shrieks and almost lying so flat my head was in Ross's lap, I tried to pull the paddle out.  Our boat was being swept away but my arms were wedged with the paddle and were being wrenched from their sockets.  Ross, by sheer force of will and brute strength, managed to force the kayak back against the flow of water and I released my paddle only to discover that not only had it been wedged in the opening but also had got tangled up with Ross's. We wrestled them free and shot through the gap without any further ado.

20km is a long way to paddle when you have to concentrate!  The river widened out and I started to wonder if we would ever get to the marshalled weir.  I was also wondering what it could be like when we had already had to get through a number of challenging obstacles without marshals.  Just how bad could it be?

No, really....how bad?

The water suddenly got a lot calmer and there appeared, on the left bank, wearing a warm coat and a beanie, a lady marshal.  We paddled over to her to get instructions.  I still couldn't see the obstacle that we were meant to go over. 

Ross and I elected to go first.  Tentatively we  paddled over to it.  The force of the water pushed us onto the top.

Oh......My...GULP!!

We were perched on the top of a HUGE weir.  It was about a 4m drop.

I cannot begin to describe the feeling of inevitable doom that I felt creeping over me.  As per instructions we leant forward. It was over in a matter of moments but I felt we went through the whole thing in slow motion.  I can recall small details.  The craft went into a nosedive down the weir. The entire boat was on the almost vertical slope and was not yet near the bottom.  I don't know why but the kayak started to lean to the right.  To compensate I leant over to the left but it was no good. As our prow hit the water and disappeared beneath the surface we were catapulted off it and unceremoniously dunked into the depths at the bottom of the weir.  I surfaced spluttering and gasping. Kicking out, I expected to reach the bottom but below me was only water.  I clutched onto our unturned kayak.

That was then I realised that at the foot of the weir in the washing machine mess of churning water, my drink bottle was swirling around.


"My water bottle," I shrieked at Ross.

Just then the front of Will and Andy's kayak appeared at the top of the weir.  It hung there for a minute, as if someone had pressed the pause button on the remote and then hurtled down the slope towards us.  It looked like they were going to make it.  Ross called out to William, "Grab your mum's water bottle won't you?"

In a moment of rare filial compliance and obedience Will reached out for the bottle.  I bet he and Andy wished he hadn't....

It was enough for them to upend and overturn their kayak.  Within seconds all four members of Team Beacon AR were bobbing about at the foot of a weir in a cold Irish river.  Lovely!

That was when I pointed out to Ross that I couldn't reach the bottom.  Apparently neither could Andy.  Long shanks Ross and Will both could.  They were trying to manoeuvre boats and we were treading water, trying to keep our heads above the surface. On top of this, I had whacked my knees so hard on the kayak when I fell out of it I seem to have lost feeling in my lower legs.  I still have the bruises 2 1/2 weeks later.

Eventually the four of us managed to get back into our boats and carried on downriver to the final (we hoped) obstacle of the kayak section. By this point I was a little chilly....

Oh what fresh horror is this?  Another HUGE weir.  This one was about 3 metres high.  The marshal here was pottering about in the water on a little white water kayak.  (Lucky thing!)

His instructions were slightly different from those  for the previous (disastrous) weir.  He told us to paddle hard, lean forward and then lean back.  I have to say that by this point I was expecting a dunking but praying hard to avoid one.  We stuck slightly on the top of the wall, rocked and rushed down the slope.  The water came up to meet us in a swirling flurry.  I sat there expecting the  inevitable....the water rushed over my legs as the nose of our boat dug into the water at the foot of the weir and then popped back up with us still on top.  We had managed to stay upright and afloat! We paddled a little way forward and waited for Will and Andy to come over which they did without any mishap.

The marshal told us to paddle a bit further down and exit at a slipway, river left.  I was freezing cold but elated and paddled downstream with renewed vigour.

When we got to the slipway we saw we would have to port the kayaks about 200m across a field to a car park where we would transition to foot.  No problem.  It was when I got off the kayak that the uncontrollable shivering started.  Ross, Andy and Will handed me their paddles and started to get the boats clear of the water.  I couldn't talk by now my teeth were chattering so hard.  Ross told me to go ahead and I started my wobbly way across the field on legs that were shaking with cold.  I got to the car park well ahead of the 3 guys who were trying to do a 4 person job with only 3 people.

I think I must have looked in a bit of a state.  I was vibrating like a chihuahua I was so cold.  One of the lady marshal asked me if I was ok and said she could pull me out of the race immediately if I needed her to.  I indicated through chattering teeth that I didn't want to stop.  (I was quite afraid to talk, in case the uncontrollable shivering made me bite off my tongue...)

The kind marshal who had helped carry the kayak down to the river's edge at the start of this section materialised besides me with a hot cup of coffee in a thermos lid.  He wrapped my hands around the cup. It was lovely and warm but try as I might I couldn't stop shaking and most of the coffee slopped out all over my hands. This was ridiculous! Eventually I managed to gulp down what left in the mug which helped a little bit.

The lady marshal asked if I had spare clothes because I was soaked to the skin.  I managed to lock my jaw enough to get out the words that my dry clothes were in my bag on the kayak. (Fortunately they were inside ziplock plastic bags and the whole rucksack was inside a waterproof drybag that kept it dry during its swim in the river!) The rest of the team appeared and somehow between the marshal and my team, my clothes were located.  I was incapable of helping myself.

The marshals managed to find two towels and she got me round the back of a van in the car park.  She held up the towel for modesty but by this time I cared not and would have flashed my goose bumps to all and sundry if it meant I could get out of the wet gear and into some dry clothes.  I couldn't get my bra off and she had to help me.  My hands were shaking too much to function properly.  Eventually I rubbed dry and then she had to help me dress.  Meanwhile, the other marshal had laid my coat out to dry in the weak sun and breeze.  It truly is a fantastic coat because it dried in no time.  By the time we had got me dressed, he reappeared with my coat and I gratefully put in on and pulled a buff onto my head.  Now it came time to get my shoes on.  I couldn't do it on my own and the marshal helped me lace them up.  I cannot thank them enough.

I think Ross gave me some food, I think it was the meal replacement but I was feeling a bit grim and I can't really remember.  What I do remember is that Andy was also freezing cold, by this time he was going through his bad patch and was white as a sheet. I think I told him he looked terrible which probably wasn't the most encouraging thing I could have said but by this time the thin veneer of civilisation and all my filters were well and truly gone.  Mine weren't the only ones gone because I had to stop Will from having a wee in full public view on the side of a busy road!

We started the walking section.  I know we were meant to do a long hike, 25 km over a huge ridge but it wasn't going to happen.  We walked a total of 10km.  I was on tow behind Ross and Andy was on tow behind Will.  After a couple of hours we realised there was no way we would make it over the whole ridge. We knew we were being short-coursed, it was just a matter of when. When had come!  Ross phoned in to the race director.  We back tracked to the last checkpoint and waited for our transport to the transition area.  While we waited, I ingested my last meal replacement drink of the race and gratefully closed my eyes for two minutes.  Will and Andy had a short doze accompanied once again by deep sonorous snores. Our transport arrived in about 10 minutes.

Our transport....

The back of a white van.....

We sat huddled together in the dark interior of the back end of the van without a hand hold to be seen and tried hard not to end up on each others' laps as we slid all over the place. It was quite a ride.  As we were being driven along, I was undergoing a change in the dark of the van, I was becoming Transition Nag.  I was telling the men that I could help put on the front wheels on the bikes, that we didn't need a lot of food for this final stage and generally handing out jobs and being as bossy and giving strict instructions to stop duplication of roles and to prevent faffing.

You know what they say about giving someone a little bit of power...

When we got to the transition we discovered we had to demolish the 3 of the bike boxes and throw all our spare kit into one box.  I found myself giving loud, slightly impatient instructions to fellow team members and chivvying them to "HURRY UP!!!"

We jumped on our bikes with just under two hours remaining in the race.  We needed to hurry to make a final dash for the finish line. We were sent home on the most direct short course route, all roads.  Even so, we were cutting it fine. Coming out of the transition we rode down an incredible down-hill that had me standing up in the pedals whooping with delight.  Then we started the gradual, but relentless uphill back towards Blackwater Castle and the finish line.  From that point,  I was on tow the whole way which was a pretty hair raising experience particularly going around roundabouts in traffic.  We were flying.  Ross was like a machine powering his way up hills, screaming at me to "pedal, pedal...really push through it."  He is so strong, having towed me on foot and on bike for nigh on a hundred kilometres.

We were right up against the clock, on a new and unplanned route. The sun was beating down on us (finally) and we were desperate to finish with as few time penalties as possible.

Our bikes were beginning to show wear and tear.  I had lost my lowest gear and so was having to power up hills in a harder gear than was strictly comfortable.  William's front forks on his bike were wobbly and his hydraulic brakes seemed to be leaking so he kept having to adjust them.  We ignored all this as the realisation slowly dawned on us that we were going to finish this race and we were going to cross that finish line.  It didn't matter if we came stone last, we were going to succeed.

The final leg of the cycle is uphill.  Steep uphill on tired legs.  Steep uphill on tired legs with gears that have stopped working...

Ross and I steamed up those hills.  He just kept screaming at me to pedal harder and faster, and tough! if my gears had died!  Andy said he looked back and heard Ross yelling at us to pedal and realised that Ross and consequently me on tow behind him were actually accelerating up the final hill into the village.

As we turned off the main road into the castle's driveway (another uphill) our tow rope finally gave up the ghost and snapped.  That was ok.  I wanted to power my way across that line unassisted.  As we came to the line, the castle owner, Patrick, started playing "Oh when the saints come marching in" on his trumpet.  As he piped us in, the four of us came alongside each other and in a show of solidarity and in an expression of the team spirit that had permeated our race, crossed the finish line together.

Our ethos was team, our goal had been to finish as a team, our strategy twas to go for mandatory check points. And that is what we did. When everything came out in the wash we had 260 points subtracted in penalties which translated to about 2 hours time penalties.  We set out to finish, we achieved our goal but a greater surprise came when the final results were announced and we were placed 18th out of 28.  What a surprise.  What a bonus!


We had done it.
204 km
40 hours
A lifetime of memories.
Beacon AR and the Beast of Ballyhoura.
It was hard, it was worth it.
Will I do it again?
Watch this space.  The adventure continues....

Things that go bump in the night..... (part 6)

Feeling invigorated by the dunking in the river during the canyoneering, I was eager to get back on my bike and get a few miles under our belt.  However, Ross pointed out that we needed to get some speed on, so I swallowed my pride and accepted a tow.  He rode passed me and handed me the end of the retractable dog lead that we use for towing.  It is a bit like grabbing hold of a floppy baton in a relay race but I caught it.  This didn't mean I would be sitting back and doing nothing.  I still had to pedal flat out but Ross was giving me about a 20% boost to my speed and power.    It had worked earlier in the day and I knew that for the benefit of the team, I needed to be on tow.

After a little while, Ross said that he was going to put on speed and I needed to prepare myself for the coming jerk on the tow rope which was held in the first 3 fingers of my right hand.  The promised increase didn't seem to materialise and I was overwhelmed with the need for a sip of water.  So, I took my left hand off the handle bars and wrestled the bottle out of the holder on my crossbar.  I had just lifted the bottle to my parched lips,

                                                     ....YANK....

Ross put on the burst of, by now, unexpected speed.

 "AAARGH!!!  ROSS!!"  I screamed as I was pinged across the road like a slingshot.  The water bottle flew out of my hand. The webbing handle of the tow rope was painfully ripped from my grasp. Completely out of control, I hurtled towards a hedge on the opposite side of the road. The verge and hedge came up rapidly to meet me as I flew off my saddle and landed face first.  My right hand was cut and grazed and the third finger on my right hand started to swell and throb (It still hurts two weeks later!) I was bruised and battered but the thing that was most painful was my top lip. 

"Ross, what is wrong with my lip?"  I lisped at him, licking it tentatively.
"I can't see anything"
"Are you sure, it's really sore.  Is it bleeding? It feels like it's grazed."
"There is nothing wrong with it... No wait, you have nettle rash."

Just my luck, I managed to land face-first in a nettle patch.

Feeling slightly shaky, I climbed back on my bike and politely refused the offer of a tow whilst I tried to regain my sense of equilibrium and dignity.  Andy was incredulous when I told him I had been trying to have a drink while being towed.  He reckons towing is one of the most terrifying things you can do and requires total concentration.  I am borderline A.D.D so total concentration is not in my make up.  I had managed to drink before, I have no idea why it went wrong this time. 

After a little while I accepted the tow again but told Ross I wouldn't be on tow after dark, I was quite shaken up by the experience.

 The surfaces we had ridden on varied  from single track, to gravel paths and tar strip roads. We pootled along for many miles until we came to a detour due to a road closure as a result of a bridge being down.   We then came to yet another road detour due to another bridge closure.  It was going to be a 14km detour.  We didn't fancy that.  As we were contemplating our options, a lady drove passed us in her car and asked where we were going.  When we told her, she said that she had seen some people crossing the bridge on the scaffolding.

Now, we are all law-abiding people but the thought of doing extra mileage must have flipped a switch in all of us because before you could say "Adventure Race" the four of us were pedaling down the closed road to investigate the non-bridge. 

The road had big 6 foot, free-standing, metal fence barriers all the way across it.  This did not deter us and we managed to get all four bikes around that barrier in no time flat.  We wheeled our bikes down towards the non-bridge quick as you like (me feeling terrified that the police would turn up and tell us off at any moment.) 

She wasn't kidding when she said the bridge was down.  The bridge was non-existent.  The road ended in a precipice and a scaffold was erected across the whole river.  We had to lower our bikes down on to the scaffold and then wheel them across a narrow walkway and pass them up to each other on the other side.  The scaffolding was pretty high up above the river below.  We popped out on the other side of the river worked around some more barriers to be greeted by two friendly chaps sitting in a car.

"Hello lads," they greeted us (I think by this time I must have qualified as a lad!)
 "Err hello," we said a little sheepishly.
"Anymore coming across?" they asked conversationally.
"Um, not sure really.  There could be.  This is a race, you see."  Bearing in mind at the time we thought we were stone last, we were hedging our bets on whether anyone was behind us.

They then revealed that they had seen some other racers doing the same thing, bid us good night and drove off just as another local resident popped out of his house to find out what we were doing in the middle of nowhere in the gloom of evening on our bikes....  we went through our explanation again and they wished us, "Good luck lads,"  (Could they not see my long plaited hair??!!) and we went on our way.

After that the road and the night became a blur of pumping pedals and the circle of light from my head torch as we rode mile after mile to get to the mandatory checkpoints we needed.  I remember getting to a checkpoint on a gate somewhere on a gravel road.  It was dark and the air around us was full of rain.  I dibbed into the CP marker and heard Ross utter the words I was desperate for, "Right Will and Emma you can lie down for 5 minutes." 

Andy consults map
 while Will and I close our eyes briefly

I lay down on the gravel road using my backpack as a pillow and blissfully shut my eyes.  Just as I was about to drop off, "Time to go."  I had a cereal bar thrust into my hand and I stuffed it down.  We hopped back on our bikes and carried on.

I have no idea what the time was. Although we were racing the clock, time had lost all meaning.  We were in this weird bubble.  There was nowhere else we could be, we couldn't concern ourselves with the stuff that normally fills our lives and were intensely involved in what we were doing.  Our phones were sealed so there were no distraction and our everyday lives seemed a thousand miles away.  

The road started to get steeper and steeper. For a while I managed and then I started to fall behind,  Ross put a hand on my back and gave me a shove.  I pedalled on, struggling with every turn of the crank.  It soon became obvious to everyone that we would have to get off and walk.  We walked for hours.

The rain fell for hour after hour as we trekked up into the hills, sometimes pushing, sometimes riding.  I can't honestly remember much of this part of the race because I was almost incoherent with tiredness.  Coping with sleep deprivation has always been something I struggled with, even as a young mum.... it has been known to bring on migraines in the past.  It was the one thing, aside from the modesty dilemmas that had most concerned me in the run up to the race.

I announced to my bemused teammates that I was feeling 'tearful and shouty.'  Andy did ask afterwards, "What was different from normal?"  (Cheeky toe-rag!!) The phrase tearful and shouty caused great hilarity every time it was  mentioned after the race. But, at the time I was completely, intensely serious and I was trying to warn them that I was literally at the end of my tether.

I cannot remember how long we pushed our bikes up those hills with the rain lashing us and just our head torches and the wind for company. We fell silent as we slogged it out, our banter of earlier fading as we all dealt with the need to overcome our natural instinct to sleep. On and on we went.  Our progress was being hampered by my inability to ride because I was so spent.  Ross had long ago taken my bike and was pushing it along with his own. I was stumbling along in a state of total exhaustion. I was in an agony of misery.  My head was flopping on my shoulders, my arms uselessly swinging in front of me and my mouth was hanging open...I looked, as Ross's Scottish family would put it, glaikit .

"I need to stop. I need to stop."  I moaned.  I didn't want to quit the race.  Even at the extremes of exhaustion, the thought never crossed my mind.  All I wanted to do was stop and lie down for a few minutes to recharge my batteries. I told Ross so, "Well you can't.  You will get through it." he handed me an energy gel. "Are you drinking?" he asked. 

Drinking?  drinking?  Is that all he could think about....I was beyond tired.  I could have quite cheerfully inflicted a serious injury to him if I had the energy.  Bless him, all the while he continued to push our bikes up the unrelenting hills.  I can't remember any down hills for hours.  Although, I am sure my perceptions are warped by how I was feeling. 

Will came alongside me.  He put his arm around me and started to gently push me up the hills,  "I need to stop."  I said.  The tears were trickling down my face and I was snivelling as I rested my head in the crook of his shoulder.  Parent - child role reversal.

Ross promised we might be able to have a rest at the next check point but in the end,  I think he must have taken a closer look at me and then I heard a muttered conversation with Andy about getting me out of the rain and the cold for a bit.  I stood like an anaesthetised cow, dull and stupid, unable to contribute while the 3 of them sorted out bikes, food, got my little back rest/carry mat thing out of my bag and put the emergency shelter 'up'.

Ah yes,  the emergency shelter or more aptly named bivvy bag...This is the recipe for the emergency shelter:

Imagine something bright orange and slightly larger than the plastic bag you get at a supermarket checkout.  Take four adults who are wearing soggy trainers and damp clothes and  who have been, by turns, wet and sweaty for 24 hours. Insert into aforementioned bright orange bag. Add to this the high energy food that is having unfortunately consequences on their lower digestion and get them to all sit very close to each other underneath this teeny tiny bag.  Now mix in with this, the complication that when you have been active for that length of time and you try to fold yourself into a small ball that cramps and discomfort will ensue.  Add to this heady mix their attempts to stay warm (drafts kept creeping underneath), eat something and do this in the confines of something only slightly larger than a shoe box.  Can you just imagine?

Will decided to try to lie down.  the whole bag went with him and we all disabused him of that notion rapidly.  I found that I had my nose pressed in Ross's armpit.  This was unfortunate, because by Ross's own admission, he smelt like a polecat.  My trainers stank like dog wee (I am going to have words with the dogs!) And, although I have known Andy for quite a while, I have never until this race felt the need to expel gas before him.  The atmosphere in the tent was so thick that you could have chewed it, if you were brave enough.  The four of us tried not to breathe....for 20 minutes.  And sleep?  Forget about it!

The idea was that we were meant to stay in the shelter for the full 20 minutes but I think Andy lasted about 15.  He had been making short gasping grunts and groans for a full 5 minutes before he decided to bail, "I have got to get out, I am cramping and so uncomfortable,"  he said as he scrabbled to find a way out under the edge of the bag which I had firmly tucked under my bum.  The unspoken plea was "let me out! oh save me!let me out!"  Poor man, we let him go.

I was beginning to think that despite how tired I was anything was preferable to having my nose that close to Ross' s stinking shirt for a moment longer.  (Maybe this was actually his strategy?)  When he called time to go I too scrambled free from the shelter with alacrity.

The slog continued.  We finally made it to the next check point and dibbed in.  At this checkpoint there was meant to be a task but, due to weather conditions (mist and rain), the task had been closed.  It was shooting at beer bottles with a gun.  Hmmm good job they didn't give me the gun at that point due to the mental state from lack of sleep.  Even though I was back on my feet I was still feeling tearful and shouty and less than charitable towards my teammates.

Will, by this point, had asked Andy to take on the navigation as Will felt he needed a break.  Andy discovered that from the top of this mountain/ big hill there didn't seem to be many options on how to get down except over a really stony, steep, bumpy downhill.  Now I like a technically challenging downhill under normal circumstances but in the dark, after a day with no sleep, it was more than a little hair-raising!  I was extremely grateful when we made it to a tar road.  It seems Ross had been right about getting through the terrible bit, because by this time, although I was still tired, I wasn't feeling out of it or in a state of mental derangement anymore.  I was glad to be riding by bike.

And ride we did, for mile after mile after mile.

Where is the CP...shortly after this we got our cup of tea.
Andy, me, Will

We came to a village where a CP should have been.  We searched high and low.  We bumped into another team who were searching high and low.  None of us could find this CP.  The other team disappeared and we were getting on our bikes when suddenly a chap appeared before us.  He was the landlord of the local pub. 

"What are you doing?" he asked.  Wouldn't you when 4 sweaty smelly people start poking around in your village at 2:45 in the morning?  We explained what we were up to and he surprised us with such a fantastic gesture.

"Will you have a cup of tea?"  We fell on his generosity like a starving man on a hog roast.  He led us into his (now shut for the night) pub without a thought for the mess we would trail in.  His wife brought out tea and biscuits and even offered us a flask to take with us.  The kindness, friendliness and generosity of the Irish people throughout our race was really special.  Downing the tea, we declined the offer of the flask, thanked our hosts and  got on our way.

We never did find that check point though!

I was still quite tired but it wasn't  in the bone-weary sense of the word anymore.  It was more of the sleepy kind.  I kept wanting to nod off on the bike.  So, in an act of supreme self-sacrifice on my part, to assist my team, I decided to take a caffeine tablet.  (I am extremely sensitive to caffeine and as advised by the doctors I am completely caffeine free in order to avoid the unpleasant consequences of contact with it- migraines, palpitations and asthma attacks)  After a bit of discussion with Ross about whether I should, I popped the tablet.  Thank goodness it was short lasting!  I felt like my eyelids had ceased to work - they were fixed open but I still felt sleepy.  Peculiar!  But, at least I could ride my bike....or not because my heart rate shot up.  Oops! That was a failed experiment.

As soon as it wore off we were all back on bikes and pedalling away.  Then the sleep monsters attacked.

"What," you may well ask, "are sleep monsters?"

 We had been awake for more than a day,  even though we had the hour and a half rest before the race started, we really hadn't had any sleep to speak of since 6.30 am on Friday morning before the race.  It was now the early hours of Sunday morning and by this point we had been racing for well over 24 hours.  Sleep deprivation does funny things to people.  I started first. The tar on the road was variegated with light and dark patches.  All of a sudden and with no warning the light patches seemed to morph before my eyes into boulders and what looked like bridges.  They literally leapt out of the tar and I had to ride around them.  It was bizarre.  Then William stopped for a wee on the side of the road and I did a double take as standing where William had once been was Father Christmas...waving his arms around!  I blinked. I looked again and William had returned.  It sounds quite psychedelic I know!  But, it is all true and all down to sleep deprivation.

I then informed Ross and Andy that there was a little girl on the road.  I could see her clearly.  They both believed me (!) and started looking for her.   "No there isn't." they said.  I already knew that because she had changed into a seal and disappeared into the hedge.

I found it affected my speech and that I couldn't think of the right words.  I, in all seriousness announced to Will and Andy that I had sparkles in my shoes that were hurting my feet.  Yep!  Prickles, not sparkles.

I wasn't alone in my mad meanderings.  At one point when Ross was pushing my bike (the reason for this is unclear)  Andy told me he thought he could see a gypsy caravan just ahead...it was Ross pushing two bikes.  Andy was also 'seeing' little creatures scurrying around.  Meanwhile William was seeing bigger ones that might attack him and which he thought he would have to slay with his sword (water bottle attached to his bike)  Ross said he was finding his head torch light mesmerising and he would just stare at it....It all may sound unbelievable but it is all true, we really did experience this weird things. The mind plays surreal tricks on itself when you are that tired.  

The tiredness by this point was our biggest problem.  We were physically fine.  I had come through my wobble but was very sleepy.  I can remember standing next to my bike on the verge because the guys were consulting the map.  Next thing I knew I was collapsed, fast asleep, in a heap on the ground, the bike had fallen on me and I heard Will saying, "Mum's down!"  I pushed the bike off me,  stood up and got back on it to continue riding.

We were going along ok but we all kept falling asleep on our bikes.  This is a seriously risky thing to do.  I nodded off fairly regularly and instructions from Ross, "CONCENTRATE!"  weren't helping. The more I concentrated the more I dozed off. I kept jerking awake as I veered to the side.  The worse moment came when I woke up to find myself careening out of control, sideswiping a hedge.  Ross saw this and said it gave him a serious fright.  He is not the only one!  After this fright, the adrenalin from the shock shorted my doziness out and I was more able to function. 

I wasn't the only one who had a near miss.  Shortly after little episode, I was cycling along next to Andy and he suddenly swerved into the driveway of a house we were passing.  "Where you going?" I asked and he came to.  He did the same thing with a hedge and actually crashed. Talk about things that go bump in the night!

 It was just after this that Ross called a halt and said, "Time for a 5 minute nap."

Such sweet words.  We found a house with a nice dry(-ish) bit of pavement and a wall to lean against and gratefully dumped our bikes and packs as we sank to the ground to have that snooze.  Just as we were getting comfy....

"Aroo, aroo, woof, aroo, woof, woof, woof."

We all groaned.  We tried to keep completely quiet but to no avail and in the end had to get back on the bikes Dog 1- Beacon AR 0.  We cycled for another couple of kilometres before we found another suitable wall and pavement, without a dog. 

Fast asleep for all of 8 minutes

Will and Andy snoozing

We sank down into the arms of sleep.  I wasn't going to waste a minute of this 5 minutes.  Nor, apparently was Andy, who snored sonorously from the minute his bike helmet came to rest on the ground until the minute Ross said, "That's it, get up.  You've had 8 minutes.  I have been kind but it is time to go."

And it was time to go.  I leapt up (for someone who is normally very slow at getting going after sleep I was managing to get moving quite quickly)  We were back on our bikes and as dawn broke we were making our way down to the transition point for the second kayak section of the race. 

By the time we got to the transition zone we had covered 137.47km,  105.7 of those on our bicycles  and the race was about 27 hours old.  As the grey strands of dawn spread we were able to leave the monsters of the night behind and head towards our second day on the Beast of Ballyhoura.  Bring it on!

Are you kidding me....you want me to jump off THAT?!! (Part 5)

Andy located our wetsuit bag and handed out the wetsuits.  The race organiser had thoughtfully erected a tent for us to change into our wetsuits.  Modesty dilemma number 3.  Do I go into this open-sided tent with all the blokes and take off my clothes and then perform the gymnastic routine required to get into the wetsuit?  Or should I go into the little toilet block and change. Go figure.... I went into the loos. 

The challenges presented by adventure racing require you to face your fears, inhibitions and foibles.  I was being challenged in the prude department.  The thing I have realised is that in racing, your body is a machine and no one is looking at you.... So I had a brain-wave.  Why get yet another bra wet that I would then have to carry for hours in my backpack....I was going to bravely take it off and put on my wetsuit. This was almost akin to skinny dipping for me. Wow!  I was making great strides.  Meanwhile Ross, Will and Andy were being embarrassed by less prudish women who were stripping off all over the place. Ivan was right....the adventure racing crowd are an uninhibited lot!

Once we had donned our wetsuits, the 4 of us gathered together, ready to face the next challenge.  William like me, was wearing a brand new wet suit.  Unfortunately, to accommodate his broad shoulders he bought a wet suit that is about two sizes too big and looked like Andy Pandy.  Andy, meanwhile had the perfect size, winter weight wetsuit. (For which he must have been really grateful as the water turned out to be a bit chilly!)  Ross's wetsuit...well...it was too small and he looked like he was in a full body cast.  He kept thrusting his head forward, out of the neck line in an attempt to catch some breath.  The neck was so tight it looked like a vicar's dog collar gone wrong! 

We all started to waddle, squelch and squeak our way up the 2 1/2 km walk to the start of the canyoneering section of our race.  Ross had to mince, due to the tightness of his suit.  I never seen him walk like that before....I never want to again!! (It is not good for a wife to see this!!)

Even though we had watched the video of the river with its grade 5 rapids, down which we were canyoneering for just over 2 km, I had no idea of what to expect.  We arrived at the head of the first obstacle.  It was a 12 foot waterfall.  We had to launch ourselves off this, one at a time, into the roiling white water below. 

I was overcome by terror.

Andy decided to go first.  He approach the lip of the waterfall.  The instructor/marshal instructed him on how to tuck up his legs and where to aim for when he jumped.  He squatted.  He paused.  He paused a bit more.  It seemed as if a dose of common sense overcame him....I thought, he wasn't going to go...He thought he wasn't going to either. He squatted a bit more and then launched himself into space.  He only realised he had jumped when he found himself in the air.  Seconds later, he hit the water, disappeared from view and bobbed right back up.  Next up was Ross, he leapt without hesitation and reappeared in no time, his glasses firmly held on his face by his sports strap.  They didn't even look like they had moved a millimetre.

Now it was my turn.

Ten minutes later it was still my turn.

The instructor told me where to aim. I approached the edge.  I hate edges. I am frightened of falling over them.  I am not fond of the idea of going under that water either.... I squatted down and tried to straightened my legs to launch myself over.  No Go.  I tried again.

I mentioned something along the lines of being terrified. The marshal was so sweet.  I jokily said, "I think I would rather go over it in a kayak"  The air was blue with her reply...in summation she told me I was mad, she would rather jump it!  Will said I had to go.  I tried again....nope.

Another team turned up...I had to let them go through.  Meanwhile Ross and Andy are waiting in the freezing cold water.

I looked again. She re-explained the technique.  It's just like a bomb I said, as she told me I would have to tuck my legs into a ball.

The marshal said I had to go or our team would be disqualified. (She told Will that she wouldn't have done that) I told her I really wanted to do it for my team.   Will wanted me to go before him because he was worried I wouldn't go.  Eventually, I made Will go first.  He went over like a dream.  The marshal pointed out that I was wearing a PFD which would pop me back up to the surface.

Now I had 3 men at the bottom of the waterfall gesturing for me to jump, shouting encouragement. 

Finally, from somewhere deep within me I found a level of courage and determination that I didn't know that I had....I closed my eyes, I pinched my nose shut and leapt. I couldn't quite believe I had managed to do it.  The rest of the team were surprised I had done it too... they were convinced I wasn't going to.

The water rushed about my head, as I plunged below the swirling surface.  I felt my bike helmet, worn for safety, pull up under my chin and felt it slip slightly to the right.  I was under the water no more than a few seconds and the buoyancy aid bobbed me up towards the daylight and air.  Ross grabbed me as I surfaced (he said I made a face like a budgie - very complimentary).  With shouts of congratulations we were off, bobbing along the river like flotsam as the current propelled us along to the rapids.  We had to clamber over rock after rock, through rapids and tricky currents.  Our shoes (required kit) soon filled with gravel and we had to ignore it.

We came to another waterfall, about 10 foot high, with very little hesitation but with lots of trepidation, I jumped off and we waded further down stream.

It was shortly after this that Ross slipped on a large flat rock, went down like a ton of bricks and with audible crack.  I am so grateful that he was wearing a helmet because he stopped his fall with his head and elbow and bum.  I was right next to him and told him to lie still and then ask him if he was ok.  He gingerly clambered back on to his feet.  He was absolutely fine.  Thank God! 

I was feeling on top of the world. Having faced another fear, I was loving floating down the river and bobbing about over the rocks. 

Meanwhile, Will who had been thoroughly excited about doing the canyoneering, having done it before, was struggling.  He had a raw broken blister on one foot which was causing pain, he was suffering with cold and hunger and was in a bad place in his head, he said subsequently that he was tired from doing bike nav (navigation) for so long.  This was lowest point for him, most of us would experience them at some point.  We just had to go slowly, instead of dashing along through the water, we had to hug the sides and even tried to get out of the water so that he could avoid the cold water.

We reached the third leap of faith...only to discover that the marshals had had to make a decision to close the obstacle because the river levels had risen too much and made the waterfall jump to dangerous.  In fact, we were one of the last teams to complete the canyoneering section because they closed it to other teams due to the raised water levels. 

I am so glad we got to do it ... it was incredible and was an amazing adventure.  I feel like I really overcame something when I jumped off that first waterfall....

Back at the base, I stripped off my wetsuit without a second thought, chatting to other women in the change rooms.  Wow!  What a change.  I dashed out of the change rooms and helped William dress his foot while Andy stashed the wetsuits and Ross mixed up some more meal replacement (yeugggchhhh! but necessary)  I must say, although, I am not a fan of drinking my dinner this meal replacement works.  I use it along with a fruit and nut bar, some dried sausage, cheese (or 'cheeses' as they became known much Will's good natured annoyance) to make a meal.

Once I had refilled our water bottles and made up some more energy drinks we were back on our bikes ready to face a night of cycling.

Paddles and Pedals....part 4.

Will and Andy had teamed up on one kayak and I was with Ross on the other one.  Once again, we were ready to continue our adventure.

As soon as we launched the kayaks, I realised my mistake...I should have worn shorts and not put on my fleece.  I was soaked within seconds.  The sit on top kayak is a very sturdy little vessel.  We had the added benefit of the seats we had bought but basically it is like a giant surfboard with a bit for your bum, a place to put your feet, somewhere to lash your backpack and holes to drain it.  It isn't what you would call a watertight vessel.  There was quite a swell on the lough.  This was a challenge in itself.  The other challenge was driving a tank (the sit-on-top) after steering a Ferrari (sleek little racing kayak)

After about 5 minutes we got into the swing off things. Despite the difference in vessel the training had paid off as we were able to implement the paddling techniques we had been practising.   I have to confess, I was a bit tired at this point and  I did try kayaking with my eyes closed but that didn't work terribly well, so I gave that up and got on with the job in hand.  Above us the skies were grey and pregnant with yet to be released rain,  below us the water was choppy and dark, we set our faces to the wind and paddled....and paddled....and paddled.

and paddled


and paddled

hmmmm.......


2 hours 59 minutes and 50 seconds of paddling apparently.

12. 95 km.

My back-as we made our way across the lough
(Photo:  Ross)

It's a long time of doing the same thing.  Especially if after 1 1/2 you start to desperately need a wee.  Here came modesty dilemma number 2.  How was I going to wee off the side of a kayak in a deep lough and without my team mates noticing?  The situation was becoming acute.  To make matters worse, I turned to my right to see Will managing to do just that over the side of the boat.  Great.  Ross said I would have to wait because I would tip us over if I tried hanging over the side....

I tried to wait.  No I was beginning to feel sick I was so urgently in need of relieving myself.  I had a sudden brain wave.  I lay down in my kayak seat which was a feat of great balance and wriggled out of my leggings.  (Someone asked me why I didn't just wee through them because I was soaked already but really eeeuuuwww!  Anyway,  you know those little drainage holes I mentioned....let's just say that I now know what they are really for....)

The men on this team have no idea of the lengths I have gone to and the sacrifices I have made for them!

After a great deal more paddling we made it to the first transition point and were reunited with our race box for the first time since the start of the race.  The original plan was for Andy to chivvy us all on, for me to get everyone's food and for Ross, Andy and Will to put the bikes together.  but, we were thrown a curve ball in the race briefing.  We had to pick up new maps, transfer the checkpoints on to the correct place on the map, plan our route and laminate our maps with sticky-back plastic.  What should have been a short transition of approximately 45 minutes transformed into a two hour epic of its own.

We knew that there was hot food and tea available at this transition and naturally, because I am the girl (ahem!!) I was put on getting the breakfast.I was a bit cold so actually I was more than happy to make my way into a building    It was the best breakfast I have ever eaten.  A cooked Irish breakfast, in a bap.....sausage, bacon, black pudding, white pudding and egg.  Oh yum.  I mean that with all my heart....really OH YUM!! I felt heaps better after that and joy of joys, there was a proper toilet too!  Luxury.

Ross and Will sorting the route.
 Photo by Andy,
 I was having my illicit doze

A lot of the teams seemed to all congregate inside and eat there food before all getting on with their team jobs.  I tried to suggest this but Ross and Andy were having none of it and demanded food like a pair of starving nestlings whilst rebuilding the bikes. It started to rain shortly after this. They told me that I should sort out the food for the next stage and get everybody's food bag out of the box but I had a rebellious moment and said that I needed to eat my breakfast first so that I would warm up and then be more effective.  I think Ross must have seen a steely glint in my eye because he suddenly agreed, I think the shivering like a juddering tractor engine might have swayed him too!  Anyway, the two of them had the bikes built in no time and we all went to help William with the maps.  He had transferred a lot of the check points by this time and was planning the route.  He and Ross consulted on that while Andy and I covered the maps in the sticky back plastic to make them water proof.  We got quite adept at this and had them done in no time.  In fact, I even had chance for tiny little shut eye (about 5mins) which was caught on film for posterity by the Adventure Racing Website, Sleep Monsters.....

I looked so peaceful!  I don't even remember dropping off...

Will in the foreground, me behind

Finally, the maps were organised and it was time to get onto our bikes.  Once again we were on our way.

Nobody mentioned we would be with the bikes for 18 hours with a brief two and a half hour respite while we tried to commit hari kari down a river!  (more on that later!)






Andy and Will checking the map.
Will taking the opportunity
to swallow down a gel

By 11 am we were off and the first part of the ride went well. I was keeping up with the guys and it was great to be on the bike.  The views were lovely as we went parallel to the lough for a while and then Ivan (the race organiser's) curve ball....The Hike-a-Bike.

If three words were as ill-suited to go together in the English language as hike-a-bike, I cannot think of them.  Basically, this is when you push your bike up a hill (for what seems like decades) because the path is too steep to cycle up.   Add to this the Irish idea of a stile (more like a very tall ladder you should climb with aforementioned bike) and their passionate attachment to the electric fence (Ivan had forewarned us about that little detail) The track was extremely narrow, bordered on one side by the electric fence and on the other side by a mixture of gorse, brambles, ferns and heather.  It was quite hard work.  Ross took my bike and I started to push his.  The reason for this was that his bike weighs significantly less than mine.  I thought I was going to be able to push it up all by myself.  I was determined.  But, I was under a misapprehension.  Eventually Andy and Ross leap-frogged the bikes up the hill.  Taking it in turns to get our three bikes up there.  I would pick up whichever bike they had laid down and try and push it until it was grabbed from me and then I would walk up to where they had left the third bike and the process would start again.  It was back breaking work shoving and hauling those bikes up that hill.   Eventually, we reached the top of the first hill.  The path widened out a bit, enough that I could push a bike while Andy towed it.  This worked quite well for us. The view at the top was completely worth the slog!

 Andy was carrying the checkpoint descriptions and William was navigating.  The next checkpoint we were looking for was one on or near a broken cross monument.  Sounded simple enough.  There were two of these on the very top of the hill.  The one to our left was fairly new and away to our right I spotted the broken monument.  It was beginning to drizzle a bit by now.  Just sort of blowing through rain and damp.  We made our way (thankfully back on our bikes and not pushing them) over to the broken monument.  Up behind us came team number 1, Adventurers Assemble.  We all looked around the monument. Where was the check point?  Oh. My. Goodness.  You have just got to be kidding.  The electronic dock for our tags which is how we register we have been to the checkpoint (CP) was at the top of the monument.  About 7m up. And every team member had to 'dib'  ("Have you dibbed?" became the most uttered phrase of the race)

"Go on," said Team 1, "You go first."

The CP was literally at the topmost point of ruin

Will was up the thing like a mountain goat. I took more persuading.  A lot more persuading.  It took Ross, Andy and Will levering, shoving and cajoling me to get me up there.  I got up and then I had to work my way around the thing to find a way to the top.  I was clinging to it like a limpet whilst Will tried to get me to move around.  I was utterly terrified.  I am not scared of height...it's more edges and this thing had lots of edges.  It was greasy with rain and just nerve-wracking.  Finally Will was able to grab my wrist and dibbed in for me.  Then I had to get down.  Gulp!

The Heavens opened.  It was like the clouds unzipped themselves and a deluge began and from then on it rained for literally hours  (I have come to think that perhaps Noah retired to Ireland)  William then spent the next hour and a half, telling us in increasingly grumpy tones how much he hated rain and that it annoyed him....over and over and over and over again.....would have tried the patience of a saint.  We all let him witter on, he obviously needed to vent.

Back on terra firma we had the most incredible down hill cycle... It was utterly awesome.  I stood up out of the saddle and I don't think I peddled for about 2 kilometres.  Then it was more of the same as we worked our way around the check points and had various dramas including me slipping sideways off my bike twice and landing in a heap of helpless giggles and a puddle!

The other obstacle we had to cross was a route detour because the land owner would let race competitiors through his land.  This involved shoving and pushing bikes over tussocks, through clay wallows  a lot of which I managed to fall in or sit in and ultimately through a stream where the only person who didn't get soaked up to the knees was Ross and none of us can work out how.

Finally at about 4.30 we pulled into the next challenge and I had to confront another fear....
 

Go! (Part 3)

5
4
3
2
1
GO!

The Beast of Ballyhoura  adventure race had begun.

Over a hundred people in the 4 member teams streamed into the woods and started climbing uphill.  With all the head torches we must have looked like a bunch of mad, one-eyed monsters blundering about in the dark. 

The mass of runners almost instantly thinned into a stream and shortly after that we seemed to be on our own.  It became immediately apparent that I was not going to manage to climb the steep slopes with my pack on and so the 3 guys shared carrying it between them. As the race went on we put most of my food in Ross's bag and I only carried my mandatory spare clothes and drinks.  This may seem selfish of me but actually I was slowing the team down when I had a heavy pack and ultimately, it took 4 days for the skin on my back to stop tingling after the race, even with the small amount I was carrying. 


We were well and truly racing and what was the first task the course director had set for us?  To climb a small mountain or very big hill...in the dark.  And what are you told never to do in the dark?....Climb mountains. It was great! I suddenly got a bubble of excitement in my tummy as we worked our way up the hill.  The claggy mud was so thick that within minutes I must have been a foot taller and my shoes felt like gravity boots, they were so heavy. I felt like I was lugging half of Ireland with every step.  I was quite glad when we came to a little stream across the path and I could rinse the soles of my trainers but I wasn't quite so pleased that within an hour and a half of starting the race I managed to find a bog to sink my feet into...  My trainers stayed wet for the next 38 1/2 hours. Oh yay!

I do remember saying to William, "It can't get much steeper than this," very near the foot of the hill. He looked at me with incredulity, and said "Yes it does."  He wasn't kidding. But then, he was holding the map and I managed to do the whole race without looking at it! As we got close to the top, it was touch and go if it wouldn't have been better to fly up there!  Anyway, as we neared the top several of the other teams were coming back down and were very encouraging and gave friendly advise or looking for some...particularly in the navigation department.  I can cheerfully brag  (now the race is over, that our navigation was pretty much spot on, no thanks to me mind you!) Of course I didn't necessarily listen to the advice we were given as we passed the other teams which is why I ended up knee deep in a bog!  We found the second check point and started to descend back down, towards the lough and the other check points.  We felt strong and positive and reached the slipway of the lough just before dawn and there I found my first 'modesty dilemma'.

I am, by nature, a bit of a prude, although with the amount I have shared on this blog, you wouldn't necessarily believe that.  (Adventure racing is a bit like giving birth, it strips you of all sense of propriety!)  Even as a small girl, I wouldn't dream of running about the garden in just my knickers, no matter what the level of heat, I was always covered up.  So running up to the race, aware that at various times I was going to have to strip off and change attire to complete certain of the tasks, I was a little concerned. (It seems ridiculous now that I was more concerned about that than say, having to kayak, cycle and walk for miles!)  I had gone as far as bringing a swimming costume to Ireland.  Although when it came to packing my bag for the race, the swimming costume remained behind in the tent because in a flash of brilliance, I realised I could swim in my sports bra and knickers.

There I was, coyly trying to remove my clothing on the shores of the lough and hurridly slipping into the PFD before anyone could take notice of the mint green sports bra I was wearing. This involved me bending over double so that people couldn't see my face!  I know, this is ridiculous, but I couldn't help myself.  I felt acutely embarrassed.  Knowing what I know now, if the swim had been later in the race, I would have stripped down to my knickers in a flash, whipped off my bra and dived into the water without a care in the world.... That is what adventure racing does to you, it removes your inhibitions! 

Back to the lough shores.  I didn't want soaking wet hair for hours after the swim, so I pinged on my silicon swimming hat and then I scuttled over to the slipway.  There was a brisk pre-dawn breeze and I felt sure I was about to turn into an icicle.  Two swans  floated on the water, not far from the shore and I joked with the marshals, "Oh look swans, you can call me Swimming with Swans" (this was a not-so-subtle reference to the classic film, Dances with Wolves.) I gingerly stepped into the first lapping waves on the shore and skidded nearly all the way down the slipway.  Wow... it was...well, slippery.... I stepped off the edge caught my foot on the bottom and launched myself into the lough. After the initial shock it was was wonderfully invigorating and I absolutely loved swimming the 300 m across to the place where we picked up the kayaks. 

While Ross,  Will and I had a delightful morning dip, Andy had the task of lugging the kit we had all been carrying about 300m around the shore.  I am glad I got the wet option.  He said it was quite hard work.  He was carrying 4 backpacks and all our clothes and shoes that we had stripped off.  He met us on the shoreline.  When I got out the water I got really cold, really quickly. And, because it was still early in the race and I was still in prude mode, I  worsened the situation by tramping across to a marquee in the thin, chilly wind. Will also went and changed it a marquee provided.  Not all the teams were quite so restrained and I am reliably informed by Ross and Andy that they did a quick about-turn when one team stripped off right before their eyes on the causeway...

In the marquee things were not going well in the changing department.  I had become so shivery my eye balls had started to vibrate and things on the edge of my vision had started to shake.  It was such a weird experience. I have never been that cold that everything around me started to judder!  I also seemed desperately slow in stripping of the wet clothes and putting on the dry kit from my bag.  My spare dry sports bra got stuck to my slightly damp back and I couldn't get the thing to unravel.  Eventually I managed and finally got dressed and then made the stupid decision to put on my one long pair of lycra tights and my one dry fleece, to get on to an open top kayak.... (3 hours of water splashing up your top, underneath your coat is not conducive to keeping your fleece dry!)

Forcing my cold feet into a pair of water shoes, I joined William as we made our way over to where Ross had mixed up a portion of the meal replacement drink I had been sooo looking forward to.....not.  We gulped it down and then tottered over to Andy on unstable shivery legs to help attach the kayak seats to the sit-on-tops and lash our bags to the boats.

Will filled up the water bladders for us all.  I had had the ingenious idea of putting the energy drink powder straight into the bladder but unfortunately the flow of water going into the bladder forced the powder up the tube and effectively blocked it.  Lesson learnt!  Put the water in the bladder and then add the powder!  I only discovered this once we were afloat and consequently, Ross had to get my bottle out of my bag so that we could drink it out of there.  The idea of using the bladder was that it was easier access to liquid and energy rather than trying to use bottles in the boat.

Anyway, swim over we were on to the next big challenge.  The first kayak stage....

(part 4 coming soon)

Get set... (Part 2)

That hour and a half whizzed by and Ross's alarm went off at 11.30pm. I leapt out of my sleeping bag with uncharacteristic alacrity.  (Getting moving after sleeping is not my strong point.)  I scrabbled around for my head torch and having located it, rammed it on my head,  shoved my feet into my still laced running shoes and crawled out of the tent.  I don't think I was fully awake but I was ready for the off.

Just then Patrick, the owner of Blackwater Castle, in whose orchard we were camped, started to play his trumpet...LOUDLY....to wake everyone up and he interchanged this with bellows of, "It's time to get up, it's time to get up."  It seems that Ross's alarm wasn't necessary.

Slightly bleary eyed and still in a state of disbelief I swung my bag onto my back and staggered behind my team-mates, up to the road to catch the bus to the start.  I kept saying to Will, "We are really doing this.  We are really, really doing this."   I think he found it quite irritating.  I don't think I could quite believe that the time had come to put all the months of training and preparation to the test. (I have barely mentioned most of the training on the blog because let 's face it there is nothing duller than reading ran 10km, cycled 40 km, kayaked 13 km....and repeat.... but in between all the mishaps and disasters I have written about I have actually been slogging away with peddle, paddle and on foot)

Back to the bus.  We climbed on board the bus and sat down.  It was FRIGID!  I sat shivering and dozing for three quarters of the way before my befuddled brain worked out how to turn off the air con vent above my seat.  Ross sat next to me, folded up like a very fancy bit of origami.  It is quite hard to fit his 6ft2" frame into a seat made for normal height people!  He seemed to want to chat but I was having a post-nap grump and mild panic attack.

The post-nap grump is self-explanatory;  the reason for the panic attack is that just before we got on the bus I was given a disclaimer to sign.  This disclaimer had been mentioned in the race briefing but I hadn't registered it.  Ross, Andy and Will signed it promptly and seemingly,  without reading it.  There was a pause as I started to read it and Ross said incredulously, "Are you reading it? Just sign it. Come on, the bus is leaving soon." 
"Have you read this thing?" I asked.
"No." he responded.
"You always told me to read the small print and don't sign anything without reading it.  I'm serious, have you read this thing?  It says, 'I understand that I am undertaking activities that are dangerous and I might get hurt or die'!" I shriek.
Andy laughed. Ross shrugged and Will said, "Come ON Mum, just sign it."

This seemed like the final straw, after I spent the previous week assuring my Mum that what I was about to do wasn't really dangerous, I wasn't insane and I did know what I was doing.  And then with 3 days to go I was suddenly overcome with worry and told the children and my sister where our wills are kept and who I wanted to take care of the children if something should happen to me (at the time I was more concerned with the ferry trip!) and now I was signing a bit of paper that said I understood I might get injured or die....

"It will be all right, it is just a standard form.  Nothing is going to happen," Ross said impatiently.  I don't think he could believe I was making so much fuss.  "Just sign it."

I was not reassured.

I signed it.

We finally arrived at our destination just after 2 in the morning of Saturday 1 August.  It was in a recreation area adjacent to the shores Lough Derg. I descended the steps of the bus and Will leant over in my ear and said, "We really are doing this.   Oooooo!  I am suddenly excited!"  (Hmmm, interestingly I didn't feel annoyed with him for using the expression I had used to him 2 hours before and which he had found so irritating.)  I simply nodded in agreement.  Truth be told I was still feeling pretty sleepy and in a state of disbelief.  Just how had I got myself into this situation?  Also, I couldn't respond to Will because was trying to stuff a packet of breakfast biscuits down my throat to stave off any hunger pangs that might creep up on me. On top of this I was wondering why my bag felt  quite so heavy.

They called the team numbers up one by one to collect the maps. We were number 4, Ross went up and got our map.  This map was for the foot orienteering section which would start the race. 

Ivan then announced that as it was 'chucking out time at the pubs' they would see us all across the road .  He herded all 28 teams across the road and we halted in a muddy patch near  the entrance to a wooded area  where we would start the race.

"We will start the race at 2:20," Ivan said.

A whole lot of people started to fiddle with their watches, setting timers, chronos and checking the time.  They started the count down....

5
4
3
2
1

(part 3 to follow...)

On your marks.... (Part 1)

This time a week ago, I was sitting in  a pub  in Ireland tucking into a plate of delicious chicken and rice and basking in a post-race glow.  Since then I have been away on holiday with my family and  have been gradually recovering from my epic adventure.

The adventure started on Thursday 30 July when we climbed into our fully loaded vw bus  and drove all the way from Surrey to Black Water Castle in Ireland.  With pauses for food and the wait to get on the ferry, it took us 14 hours.  The highlight of the journey was a stop for a fantastic meal that Andy treated us to, in a pub called the Horse and Jockey.  We had the most fantastic t bone steaks, the size of my head!

We arrived really late at the race venue.  We were met by Ivan Park, the race organiser and also by the owner of the castle.  We had a lovely chat and then had to pitch our tent and try and get some sleep.  Sleep is something that had eluded me for the week prior to the race due to a potent mix of excitement and terror.  Fortunately I managed to get  about 6 hours in.

Friday was swallowed up in race preparations.  We had to sort the race food into bags to pick up whenever we had access to our race box during the race. Once we had registered for the race, we also had to make up 4 bike boxes using duct tape, bag up our wetsuits and tie our kayak seats and pfds/personal floatation devices (life jackets) up into bundles using cable ties.  I have discovered there is very little that can't be done if you have cable ties, duct tape and a pocket knife. (MacGyver and Bear Grylls have nothing on us!) Although  William found there is a downside to this mix since he almost performed an amputation on himself with the pocket knife just hours before the race....slicing a great chunk out of his thumb.  Pressure dressings, prayer and panic ensued as he realised that he was going to be starting the race with an injury. (Not to mention Ross shouting at Will for messing around!  He wasn't though,  the knife stuck in the duct tape and then slipped....nasty)

We also posed for our pre-race team photo and the photographer asked me if I was William's sister which really made my day!  (Nobody would be making that mistake after the race, believe me.)  Mind you, this mistaking me for a 22 year old was more than made up for during the race by all the various people who greeted the four of us with "All right lads?" as we whizzed passed them on our bikes. Lad??? Lad???  I must have looked awful!  Or perhaps it was disbelief that any sane woman would be putting herself through this.

Anyway back to the pre-race prep.

At just after 6 we popped up to the communal hall for the race briefing.  The organisers had asked the local priest to pray for all of the teams and the race which went down particularly well with my team as we are a church team. Actually, I think it went down well with all the participants because he got a round of applause!  The race briefing was both comforting and terrifying. We got a google/bird's eye view of the route which was quite comforting because it made it seem achievable.  The  terrifying bit came when Ivan showed us a video of some folk kayaking over grade 5 rapids and showed huge waterfalls explaining that this was the bit we would need our wetsuits for.  He said all this with a twinkle in his eye though.  I was sitting there worrying that I didn't have the qualifications or experience to do white water kayaking.....That was when Ivan said 'comfortingly', "Don't worry, you won't be kayaking down the river.....you will be going down the river on foot. There are some waterfalls you have to jump off."  (So this was the coasteering/caving thing they had mentioned.  This is also known as canyoonering or gorging.  Basically you wade along, swim and clamber over rocks and rapids and then oh joy! leap off waterfalls....)

This is when panic made my eyes glazed over and my ears stopped working and I heard muffled words such as 10 foot, 12 foot and 15 foot.  Then Ivan posed a question, "Is anyone scared of jumping off the top of the waterfalls?" 

That was when I came to and promptly put up my hand!  Scared....not scared no, more like terrified....  What's not to be scared off?  Leaping off the top of a waterfall into the roiling white water below.....

I can't remember much more about the race briefing after that, nor the walk back to the tent.  I just felt a increasing sense of disbelief.

We inhaled our pasta rich dinner.  I cooked nearly a kilo of pasta and a kilo of mince plus veg.  It all went! Ross had no idea it had all gone and kept saying it was a waste how much would be left over until I showed him the empty pan.  I don't think, until that point, he realised how much we were all packing away the food!  After that, we lugged the bike boxes and race box up to the collection area and then changed into our race kit.  It was 10 p.m. by this time.  We decided to catch a bit of shuteye before assembling for the start of the race.  Fully dressed in race kit and unbelievably tired I crawled into my sleeping bag.....

(part 2 coming up soon)