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Published: March 15th 2007
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Belinghausen on race morning
We look a mile to shore across choppy seas at our challenge We went to bed early and awoke around 6AM one mile off shore. The seas were choppy in the 20 knot winds. With binoculars we could see a few national flags blowing horizontal on shore by the square huts and storage containers piled helter skelter on the rocky beach. After a quick breakfast we put on most of our race clothes then over that put our waterproof boating jackets and pants, kneehigh boots, heavy gloves, hoods. We got out on deck in 32 degree weather and climbed down the gangway to water level where we loaded into zodiacs, sitting on rubber pontoons at water level with twelve of our mates for the mile outboard motor ride into shore as waves were breaking over us. The zodiacs get water inside so our feet were in 3” of cold seawater most of the way. We carried packs with a change of clothes, three bottles of water (no support on the course), extra shoes (for when the first got wet during our run; like about 2 meters from the start), and over that wore our PFD (lifejackets to keep your dead body afloat if they don’t pull you out within 4 minutes, 20 seconds.
Signposts show the way
Signpost at the Russian station Polluting the environment is prohibited by treaty).
We got to shore and swung our legs over into the breaking ocean waves and walked up onto the slippery rocks. Finding out way to a hut near the start we crawled underneath taking advantage of the meter it is raised above the ground on stilts and got out of our wet clothes and into race shoes. No portajohns and polluting is prohibited by treaty. Just hold it for 5 hours. The wind was howling even under the building and we had horizontal snow. I opted for goggles and my heavier clothes. I was still strapping on my gaiters when they announced 3 minutes to start so I quickly finished, grabbed a water bottle and ran 200’ to the starting line. I just got there and they said one minute to go and started around 8:45. The course was a double out and back; that is, out 3.5 miles, back to start; out the other direction 3 miles, back to start, then repeat. The plan was to carry the water out 1.5 miles on the first leg and drop it so you could hit it 4 times. Same thing on the second leg.
The start line
Wind blew down the start banner! After only one mile I began to question the wisdom of entering the race. We had already climbed 2 hard hills, my arms were aching from carrying the 1 liter of water, the 25 knot wind was blowing me over, my feet were aching from the slushy mud up to my ankles and we were jumping over ice water streams flowing down the hill sides. We eventually went down the hills to a beach covered with softball sized rocks that we had to run over for a mile trying to avoid twisting our ankles in the process. Eventually the rocks got larger and we had to dodge the ones we couldn’t step on. Finally that gave way to the Collins glacier. In many paces early in the race it had an inch of snow. That hid the holes and slippery parts and the wind let the snow obliterate everyone’s footprints as soon as they ran by. The 20 degree, 1 km climb was long and hard because of the treacherous footing and severe wind which hit 37 mph at the top. Most of us walked it carefully. The slippery trip back down wasn’t much better; a slip and a tumble
The first mile
Everyone is still bunched near the start would end your race. Yaktraks would have helped but I’d left those in my pack. I made it at a slight trot the first time down; I didn’t want to think about the second time on tired legs. I realized my hill training had been woefully insufficient. On the positive side my lower legs were numb from the cold and I didn’t feel the pain any more so I actually picked up my speed a little going back into town. The gale seemed more of a cross wind and the snow had stopped so my goggles came off.
In front of me Bruce got dive-bombed by a dreaded skua, a carnivorous seagull-like bird with a 5 foot wingspan. They had told us to raise our fist so they would bite your hand instead of pecking your head. Bruce was having none of that. He knocked it for a backflip with his fist. The birds looked at me and floated overhead but I guess decided I was too nasty to mess with (or maybe I had less meat than your average penguin). Many more hills brought us back to the Russian base and the start. We then began our trek
through the Chilean and Chinese base camps at the other end. We climbed many more hills in slushy mud out past an airstrip and more beaches. The Chinese were nice to cheer us on and even offered water to some of the later folks. I managed to make it out to the turn around and back to the start. I was totally shot but had a big drink of Gatorade from my third bottle stored under the building and girded myself for a second go around.
The second time through the mud was even deeper from the runners, warming temperatures (to 36 degrees) and occasional four wheelers that came to check on us. On the first pass I usually found a dry way to get across ice streams; with wider streams and tired legs I had to run through them the second time through. Wind blown snow had totally wipes out our path up the glacier. Tom passed by me coming back down the glacier and I cheered him on. From his glare I could tell he was having as tough a time as I was. One woman later got chased by a seal on the final leg and
Collins Glacier
1 km long and a 20 degree slope. One fellow clocked 37 knot winds at the top. It was hard ice and downhill was a challenge to avoid slipping penguins crossed the finish line; an ironic insult to those of us struggling over the course.
Somehow Tom and I stayed with it till the end; Tom 6th with a 4:13 and me 14th with a 4:43. It was as hard a race as we had ever done; a toss-up with the 78 mile Canadian Death Race. We later found they had considered cancelling it half way through because of the gale and deep mud.
The Russians invited us into their rec room for hot chocolate but we had to take off our muddy shoes to go in. I sat there and struggled for 20 minutes to get my shoes off because my hands were too numb to work. After ½ hour Tom went back to the staging area and brought me my backpack and I began to revive on the chocolate and some terrific bar cookies. I bought a nice expedition patch from a Russian and told him spacibo (thanks) he smiled a podshalsta back. They were amused by the whole show. Eventually I was able to put on my wet gear for the ride back. The sea action had picked up considerably in the winds so
the zodiacs struggled to get us back to warm showers, dry wool socks, and lunch after a whiskey in the bar to warm our insides. 142 finished but several had pulled out. One fellow who had come back for his second try in a wheel chair could only get a half marathon finished in 5 ½ hours. We all agreed it was the hardest race we had ever done and felt mutual respect to be part of a truly elite group to have even finished regardless of the specific time each came across the finish line.
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Carol Talley
non-member comment
Double WOW
Sounds like the toughest race imaginable. The trip to the island would have done me in! I still think I would try it if the opportunity arose.Thanks for sharing the stories, look forward to more!!!