IT Consultancy and Adventure Racing

Since discovering that Britain held a world class expedition length adventure race, I've fancied competing in the Wilderness ARC, and the fact that the 2007 race was doubling as the AR Worlds event, was in Scotland in a region that should be geograpically similar to New Zealand, and was at a time convenient for a trip home meant that this was the year for me to attempt it.

The first problem was finding a team, as I had no desire to attempt to organise a team from NZ, so after booking the flights, I got onto Sleepmonsters, and after one team that I was talking to decided they didn't have the commitment to enter, I started talking to Gill Watson, and hooked up with the British inov-8/ Intellident team.

Meeting up with Ifor and Gill the weekend before the race, we did as much of the logistical work as we could, repaired a crack in one of the kayaks, and took the other one for a test paddle up and down the river Trent.

Gill had managed to secure a camper van in sponsorship from XXX, so between Gill and I we drove it up from Newark, via Derby, Nottingham ( to pick up the race bibs and some banners that were being printed in the nick of time ), and an overnight stop in a lovely Glen, to Fort William.

Arriving on the Thursday morning I met JC, and the 4 of us spent the day ( along with 192 others ) performing skill tests, dividing all of our kit between the 5 boxes that would be meeting us at various points on the course, and trying to second guess where the race would be taking us based on the discipline order and expected stage times that we had been given.

We were tested on our rope skills with an abseil followed by the ascent of a fixed rope, where JC proved too enthusiastic and jammed his ascender against the top knot, requiring the rope to be removed to free it, had our photos taken, were interviewed by Sleepmonsters.com, and finally did a kayak skills test that involved a couple of very cold self rescues, where orionhealth.com were apparently the only team to manage to eskimo roll their boat but were still forced to wet exit just to prove they could.

Balance Vector showed the benefits of experience by having completed all the days activities and headed off, presumably for a good night's sleep, by 2030, unlike most of the rest of the teams ( including us ), who were still trying to work out what went where and how we could keep the weight of each box under 40Kg when they kicked us out of the hall at midnight!

Friday started off with a Scottish Fried breakfast at the Ben Nevis Cafe, and then it was time to discover the course, which would start on the Isle of Rhum with a prologue consisting of a swim and a 25K run, before an overnight stop and then the race proper starting with a paddle across to the mainland.

Ifor is a well renowned navigator, so JC and I spent the rest of the day running errands and tidying up loose ends as he and Gill marked up, cut out, and sticky back plastic coated the course, before the opening ceremony, a final carbo loading meal and preparing breakfast ahead of the 4 o'clock start that would be needed for the coach journey to the ferry that would take us over to Rhum.

The ferry has probably never been so packed, as 192 adventure racers and 98 kayaks were transported across the water, the other 4 racers having to get helicoptered across to the start line as there was no room left on the boat.

There was much confusion around the logistics on our arrival, and the start was postponed an hour, but before long we were lined up in front of Rhum Castle, the gun went off, and a projected 7 days of pain began with a mass of wet and dry suited athletes running the Km down a gravel path to the sea.

During the run most people, as is traditional at the start of an adventure race, tried to keep their feet dry for as long as possible, and the odd pile up was caused by people attempting to avoid puddles, pointless as this was due to the fact that we were about to go for a swim anyway.

Stripping shoes and socks off, they went into the plastic bin bag that we had carried for the purpose, and we headed down to the water to put our fins on, and join the mass of people swimming very inelegantly across the bay. I decided to lie on my back and just kick across, until I had the good sense to switch to a proper back stroke, which as long as I turned to check on progress reasonably regularly, proved quite speedy, and we exitted the water in the middle of the pack, to get changed at our boxes, where our shoes had not arrived!

This was merely annoying for us, as we had to scamper up a gravel path ( and back down it after I missed the checkpoint we were supposed to electronically 'clip' on the way out ), but at least one person lost a significant lump of skin off his foot, so we were lucky, and after a bit of grizzling about the organisation we were on our way.

Ifor immediately had us cutting through some shrubbery and then we were heading up our first hill, with JC towing Gill and me bringing up the rear, giving her the odd push as we chased the teams we could see.

The pace was pretty high as expected on a prologue, and I was soon wondering what the hell I was doing here, and being thankful that I wasn't having to navigate as well, as we just followed Ifor off the track in search of 5 check points before we continued our trip down to the southern end of the island.

Gill came off tow and JC carried her bag for a bit, and after we'd collected the first 3 check points I offered to take it to give him a rest. I was wearing it as a front pack, where despite JC's warning that it would interfere with my legs, it felt fine as we collected the 4th 'dibber', and headed down to the 5th.

An innocous seeming trip was followed, as I put my hand out to palm off a rock, by a 'crack' that was loud enough for Gill to hear, and a large amount of swearing from me!

I hadn't opened my hand quickly enough, and rather than palming off the rock, I hit it straight on with my Right Index finger, and the crack was the sound of that finger's metacarpal suffering a spiral ( thankfully closed ) fracture.

Bollocks!

Just over an hour into the race, and the palm on my right hand went 'squish' in a way that it really wasn't supposed to, but there's nothing to be done for it here, so after a lot of swearing, we just got on with the run.

And a fantastic run it was too! We ran along the south coast path, past the ruins of an old lodge, and then started the serious climbing up onto the Ridge that is Rhum's spine, overtaking Merrell/ Wigwam on the way, though this may have just been because Ian Edmonds was waiting for his girlfriend, who was racing with FJS, who powered off up the hill in front of us.

We slogged up and over half a dozen peaks as we followed the ridge up through the middle of the island, occasionally having to scramble over a particularly rough section, or stop to listen to me whimper as my feet slipped and I put my hand down to steady myself. Of course we were generally on the left hand side of any ridge, so my right hand was highest and therefore the one being used to break my fall!

Along with serveral other teams, we traversed around the last peak, and headed up through a scar back onto the ridge, obviously a move expected by the organisers as this was where we saw our first photographers, and we were to see many more in the last few K of the stage, pleasantly assuring us that we were on the right track ;-)

Coming down off the ridge towards the castle, a team came in from our right, having taken an alternative route off the tops, so we put in a bit of a spurt to chase them in, but they were too strong and we ended up crossing the line in about 15th position, 2nd british team, after about 6 hours.

We downloaded our electronic check tags and breezed through the compulsory kit check ( unlike around 8 teams that got penalties for having 'forgotten' to take various required items out onto the course ), and then I went in search of the medic's tent for the first of several chats about my hand.

Obviously the medic realised that I would want to continue if possible, and so buddy taped my 3rd and 4th fingers in order to provide as much support as possible while keeping the hand usable, and advised on a mix of paracetamol and codeine ( as long as the codeine didn't knock me out ) for pain management should it become necessary.

Obviously the team were happy that we would at least be starting the race tomorrow, and after a chat that evening with an Orthopaedic surgeon that was racing with the canadian team Fudugazi, telling me that I was unlikely to do it any real damage as long as the fingers were buddy taped, so the only real limiting factor was my pain tolerance, ( and I had drugs to aid that ;-) ), I was confident we should be able to finish!

The night was spent camped in front of the magnificent Rhum Castle, trying to batten down the hatches against the midges, and eat the constant supply of fresh pasta that was being boiled up by JC. There was much discussion among the teams about the prologue, the number of penalties handed out to the top teams, and the dubious choices that seemed to have been made by some apparently top adventure racers.

The evening was very sociable, with teams coming in for many hours, to be greeted by applause from those already encamped, but with several days of racing to go, it ended relatively early as people hit the sack in preparation for an early start in the kayaks.

Day 1 of the race proper started early with a decamp from the Castle grounds, and preparing the boats for sea, Gill and Ifor in the Duo, JC in the back and me in the front of the Triton.

After witnessing the start line disaster that saw ?? XXX Barclays Capital's ?? boat holed before managing to pull 5 metres from the boat ramp, we lined up a huge flotilla and on the gun started heading generally South, generally en masse.

It was soon obvious that this was going to be a long and painful kayak - not from my hand which seemed to be fine, but from JC who was almost instantly swearing and shouting from the back of the Triton, which he simply could not make go in a straight line!

After a couple of potentially disastrous near-rock experiences, one of which was only saved by a swift back paddle, we decided to try towing, and Ifor and Gill attached a tow rope to us, very ineffectively pulling us South for a few hundred metres, not due to their actions, but simply due to the fact that the rope was on and off tension all the time, with the boats riding waves to very different rhythms.

Ditching the towing idea, Gill and JC swapped paddles so that he had a flat blade, supposedly better for control, though the amount of swearing did not significantly diminish, and nor did the distance that we were travelling unnecessarily as the boat continually arced round to the right no matter what our limited rudderless boat experience led us to try.

After a couple of hours we arrived at the northern tip of the Isle of Eigg, where we checked in with a Marshal and then, with a more directly following swell, picked up some speed and stability, surfing nicely down the side of the island, feeling very much in control and like things were actually going somehow right for us!

Around 3 hours into the paddle we arrived at a harbour at the southern end of Eigg, where, along with many other of the teams, we decided to stretch our legs, and to alter our configuration, putting me in the back of the Triton with Gill's paddle still, JC jumping in the front with my wing paddle for power.

Heading East towards the mainland, it was soon obvious that I was no more in control of the back end of this boat than JC had been, so we continued to weave our way across the sea, turning right, brace stroking to bring the rear round, starting off forwards again, turning right, brace stroking to bring the rear round, this was played non stop on about a 60 second repeat cycle for the next 2 and a half hours until we arrived at a beautiful sunny, south facing cove on the mainland, where we were sheltered from the wind, and some teams took the opportunity to jump into their bothy bags to warm up while others just stripped and soaked up some rays in the shelter of the warm rocks while replenishing food supplies and emptying the boats of water.

Putting back out to sea, we turned into an increasing northerly, picking our way through some islands and straights between rocks, landing to pick up a CP and then coming back out into the gale proper, which had picked up several knots.

We were making relatively good progress here, as the Triton was a lot happier tracking into the wind, and therefore JC and I were able to provide a decent amount of motive power, we were gaining on the teams that we could see, but at such a ridiculous rate that I made a call that we should head into the nearest beach and portage up the road.

We were later informed that a race official had been observing a team in this section around this time, that had stayed stationary for over half an hour battling the wind, so that more than vindicated the move that led to us putting the boats up on the trolleys and jogging along the main road with them, stuffing our faces with chocolate and trying to avoid the cars still using the road.

A bit of confusion working out how to get down to Loch Morar was helped out by a couple of girls that were waiting for another team giving us some direction, we checked in at the CP where we should have got off the sea, and carried on down to the get in we were supposed to be using next anyway.

I took this opportunity to take my next batch of drugs, which I think was Paracetamol, but unfortunately Gill and Ifor decided to take their time getting on the water, so I was getting very jittery by the time we actually managed to take off - the drugs are great if you're continuing to exercise, but sit stationary and they hit you like a massive shot of Caffeine, which I try and avoid when I'm kayaking as it really doesn't help my stability!

Paddling past Sir Ian Mckellen's place at the head of the Loch, we were getting swept out into the middle not only by the wind, but also by the returning to right turning Triton, and with the lack of control that we had, we were unable to stick close to the shore, so we pottered along with a regular input of strokes to try and keep us on track and upright.

Unfortunately during one of these attempts 10 hrs and 15 minutes into the day, there just didn't seem to be enough density in the water, and we calmly rolled over to our right, ditching JC and I into what is purportedly Scotland's coldest Loch, and if it isn't, then I don't want to go too close to the one that is!

JC has a history of hypothermia, so this was a bad situation, so while shouting to the others to come back and help, we turned the boat over and got JC into it. Unfortunately, in his panic, not only had he let go of my paddle, but he also decided to try and stand up in the boat, which not surprisingly mean that he was almost immediately swimming again.

With the 2 boats now rafted up, JC got in again and we made an attempt to pump the water out of the boat, leaving a reasonable amount still sloshing around in the bottom as the attempts were succesfully counteracted by waves lapping over the side and into the cockpits.

Now down to one paddle in our boat, we tied a tow rope between the boats and Gill and Ifor started to paddle into the Northerly to get us towards the shore, but soon decided they were making no headway, and against my call, turned towards the southern shore, resulting in JC and I once more going for a swim.

Luckily JC was still attached to the rope, and Ifor managed to pull him towards their boat, as he had crashed massively on re-entering the water, so after performing a T rescue to empty the boat, JC and I got in, and we rafted the boats up, intending to drift across to the southern shore, all the time trying to keep JC compus mentis as he shivered away in the front of the kayak, barely responding.

After a couple of minutes of rather panicked drifting, a motor boat pulled alongside, with Geoff Hunt on board as he had been running along the Loch when he saw us capsize, and had immediately asked the nearest boat he could find to come to our aid.

We bundled JC into the bottom of the landing craft like boat, and I started stripping him as he lay convulsing in the bottom, meanwhile Gill and Ifor got in, the kayaks got loaded onto the decking of the boat, and emergency gear was pulled out of hatches.

We shuffled into the cabin of the boat, out of the wind, where we gave John body heat, Carbohydrate gels, and got him into dry warm clothes and a sleeping bag, continually talking to him and trying to get as much response as possible out of him.

The high speed mercy dash that followed seemed to last forever, and deposited us on the wharf at the Mackay's household, where we picked JC up and carried him into the Kitchen, to disturb Elaine's cooking of Sunday dinner by plonking JC on a chair in front of her oven, to which she responded in fantastic Scottish fashion by putting the kettle on and serving up cups of tea!

Thankyou Elaine and Alex, you are legends!

The next couple of hours were spent reviving JC, with only one scary moment where he slumped back in his chair and was unresponsive for a couple of minutes, but once Elaine started carving up the Sunday roast for us and plying us with sandwiches plonked in front of the television, he was soon happy as larry, and when the race doctor arrived to give JC the once over, he was keen to get back out onto the course ASAP, a move that was impossible for the moment due to our lack of paddle, and JC being given a ban from water activities, so that was it, race over!

We waited around for a van to come and pick us up from Race HQ, and along with inov-8/ sleepmonsters.com, who had been forced to pull out a few K back up the Loch, and had spent the intervening time sheltering in a bothy bag, we headed back to Fort William.

Gill and JC decided to head back out onto the course the following day along with the inov-8/ sleepmonsters.com guys, but I decided that seeing as the race was over there was no point in risking my hand, and so decided to get it sorted, while Ifor decided that helping the organisers out was a lot more fun than ridiculous amounts of physical activity with no chance of reward.

Thankfully my post-race was a lot more succesful than the race itself, I quickly headed down to see Brian "the Bone Welder" Simpson in Ipswich, and had 3 sessions with him over the course of a couple of days. I can't guarantee whether it was his treatment, my natural healing ability, or the huge quantities of 'knitbone' that I shoved down my neck, but I was riding a motorbike 2 weeks to the day after breaking the Metacarpal, and that's all that mattered to me at the time.

3 months later and the bone seems to have healed completely, I have a lump on the back of the hand, and the relevant knuckle is pushed back about 5mm, but there seem to be non on-going issues, so I guess I can't really have asked for a much better outcome!