Adventure Racing: A Rewarding Sport

**WARNING, WARNING** This is an extremely long post, but a good one of course! This is an article that I wrote years ago for Imprint (Waterloo's school newspaper). Due to their inefficiencies, I was unable to have it published despite their enthusiasm for it. I decided it needed to be "released" after all this time. Note that this was two versions spliced together so it does lack continuity at one point. Meh! If somone wants to publish it somewhere else they deem appropriate, feel free!


Before June 11, 2000, I had no sense of what I was truly capable of. I knew that I was able to bike decent distances, run for decent amounts of time and canoe at a leisurely pace for a day, but what I lacked was a concept of a ceiling to my athleticism. The event responsible for turning the proverbial corner in this respect was Frontier Adventure Racing’s Raid the North – Mte. Ste. Anne.

I arrived at the base of Mte. Ste. Anne and my senses were overwhelmed with sights of towering slopes, the sound of mulling racers, the smell of Quebec’s various conifers and the taste of suspense. For a few months prior, I had tried to get some sort of a training regimen together, but between living in residence for eight months prior and the pressures of my first co-op placement had somewhat distracted me from necessary training and nutritional respects. With all of that behind me, here I was in amongst three team-mates and 47 other sets of eager racers from all walks of life. Friday, June 9th was a day filled with necessary gear, first-aid, navigation, bike and ropes checks to ensure that Team Maple Leaf had everything we needed to travel through this 36 hour race safely. The day flew by and concluded with a general meeting at the summit of Mte. Ste. Anne where we met the other teams, were given the necessary safety protocol, and were finally given the maps and co-ordinates of the course that would rule the course of the entire weekend. Once in possession of this invaluable information, although no gun had fired, the race had begun in a sense.

It was 7:00pm and we had until 1:00am to plot our course, get our individual gear packed and our support van packed. The next few hours seemed to fly by in even more of a whirlwind then the previous twelve of the day. At 12:55am on Saturday, June10th we were boarding the busses at the finish line to head to the start line with a small meal, a warm shower and 45 minutes of attempted sleep. The concept that the bus in which I sat would drive for four hours to a location that would take my team-mates and I 36 hours to return from was a little baffling, but the thought was quickly swept aside by the multitude of others lining up for my attention. Am I ready for this? Did I eat enough/too much? Am I wearing too much/too little clothing? Do I have all the correct gear? Am I really ready for this?

At 5:00 am Saturday morning, we disembarked the bus, paused for a picture or two, said a quick hello to our two support crew members and walked up to the start line. The first discipline was trekking and our team’s strategy was to not run off the line since we were all relatively new to the sport. The most important part was that Team Maple Leaf made it to the start line successfully; half of the challenge was complete. As I stood there stretching the thought crossed my mind that this would be the last time that I would be standing still for the next couple of days. No time for that thought though, my wristwatch informed me that it was 5:29am; less then a minute to the beginning of my virgin journey into the world of Adventure Racing.

BANG! We were off. At 5:30am on the cold morning of June 10, 2000, I took my first few steps into a new life. I have no doubt that the introduction of adventure racing in my life has changed the way I look at our green earth and my presence on it.

Team Maple Leaf began Raid the North Mont Ste. Anne by skirting a small lake on foot approximately 100km north of base camp. Along with 47 other sets of eager minds, we had visions of the word “Finish” printed on a banner overhead awaiting us at the end of this adventure.

As any adventure race begins, there is no way of avoiding the crowds and traffic jams, but after a neck high river crossing and ducking into the bush, we very quickly found our group of four intimate with nothing but dense pine needles and wind-swept brush. This first trekking section took us through some thick bush and over a few hills as we wound our way to the first transition area of the race. A few minor navigational errors on our part brought us to our support crew in 37th place at 11:32am.

Trying to make up some time, we quickly ate and rode off on our bikes for a quick 15km ride; 13km of which was downhill. Mechanical problems faced by other teams gained us a few positions along the way and our conservative nature on the extremely rocky descents kept us on our bikes, free of injury.

At the bike drop, we donned our wetsuits, grabbed two inflatable sport yaks and charged toward the raging river. We jumped in the boats and it was not long until we witnessed first hand the warnings we had received concerning high water levels and low water temperatures. Our boat succumbed to a three foot standing wave plunging a team-mate and I into the sub 10°C waters. After 5km of intense white water, we exchanged our tank-like boats for one that was easier to paddle and control: a canoe. As my weakest event of the race, I was not pleased that there were approximately 20 sets of rapids to negotiate in the 20km paddle. Although we were forced by race management to portage the severe ones for safety reasons, my inexperience and absence of a sense of balance plunged my canoe-mate and I into the water once again. My severe frustration nearly brought tears to my eyes, but I reminded myself that this was only day one of the race and dug deep to keep hammering.

The end of the paddle met us up with our support crew once again and we stopped for some hot food and a dry change of clothes to rid our lips of the blue tinge they had acquired throughout the watercourse.

When we left on foot at 6:31pm on Day 1, our bodies quickly warmed up as we climbed over 300 vertical metres without break. On the plateau of the hill, we broke from our trail and ventured into the bush, seeking the next checkpoint. Our average speed in this section of the bush was less then 0.5km/h - normal walking pace is about 5km/h - due to the thickness of the brush where the visibility was less then a metre. The temperature plummeted well below the freezing mark and a light snow began to fall as we searched for CP9: the ropes section.

After an unsuccessful session of looking for the zipline – quite hard when it’s snowing and pitch black out - our team was certain that it was not where it was stated to be in the racecourse instructions. We called base camp with our emergency radio to inquire about the incorrect placement of the ropes and were informed that the ropes company had made a mistake. The ropes were set up, just 1.5 km south of where they were meant to be.

Frustrated but undeterred from our goal of the finish line, we regrouped and found a route to the next transition area. The dip in the river earlier in the day began to take its toll as mild hypothermia hindered the ability of one team-mate to eat and even walk, let along carry his own pack. I too began to suffer and had to give up our radio and first-aid kit to our female team-mate to reduce the weight I was carrying. She felt much stronger at the time and this is what unselfish and supportive teams do – help each other throughout the adventure.

At 4:15am, the thick bush had completely disoriented us and we became completely lost. The previous morning’s first light had occurred at 4:30 am so we decided to stop and sleep for 15 minutes and wait for sunrise. Upon
awakening I was in the most confused and cold state I had ever experienced. However, the rising of the sun ignited a second wind inside me and we started making our way toward the next TA.

We arrived at 9:08am and were able to sit down in a relatively warm hall to discuss our team’s plans. The previous evening’s conditions had prompted a large number of teams to ‘throw in the towel’, but we decided to change into dry clothes and leave before the 10:00am cut-off.

At 9:58am, we were relieved to be moving forward and on our bikes to give our feet a well deserved break. The next 11.5 hours saw us climb steep hills for hours on end to arrive at steep and seemingly unending descents, one of which threw one team-mate to the dirt at over 30km/h. We also were forced to carry our bikes through a 2km section of former trail that had turned into knee-deep mud. The true feeling of teamwork kicked in as I was now feeling stronger and was able to push my team-mates up the hills.

At 9:36pm on Sunday, June 11 with less then an hour of sleep since 7:00 am Friday morning, Team Maple Leaf accomplished our goal and crossed the finish line as a group of four.

There were many occasions during the previous 40 hours that I had questioned as to why I would actually pay money to do this sort of thing, but I discovered as I biked under the “Finish” banner and over the days to come the answer I was looking for. Prior to that weekend, I had absolutely no concept of not only what my body was physically capable of, but what my will was capable of. Seeing superior athletes and stronger teams then ours pulling out of the race as we plugged on made me realize that the physical part of adventure racing is not nearly as important as the mental. This infectious concept of the power of the human resolve has plagued many completely unrelated facets of my life. Anything is possible if your mind and heart are behind it!

For more information on 8 hour, 36 hour and 5 day adventure racing see www.far.on.ca.