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....