Stone in Focus

Run Larapinta - 4-day multi-stage race.

How did we get here?

Where do I start with this one? Sometimes I wonder where I got the idea into my head that I would do a multi-stage race. After completing Margaret River Ultra in May 2018 and bitching wildly about all the sand, I somehow found my name on the mailing list of Marathon Des Sables (suspecting a prank from a friend there). A quick look at it, and a big fat NOOOOO from me.

But 4 months later I also completed Surf Coast Century 100 and knew that all I needed was Run Larapinta Long Course (The Malbunka) to complete the Triple Crown, a concept devised by Rapid Ascents to generate an event that is tough to attain, but not out of the reach of the common person. (I should know, I've just completed it! Whoops, spoiler alert 😮)

If my memory serves me correct, it was an idle conversation with Em and Annie in early 2019 where we talked about all doing it together; safety in numbers, or more likely let us make it a bit of a party. I suspect the latter...

Being too late to enter the 2019 event as it was already sold out, we decided to target 2020 when entries opened in October 2019. Then COVID hit and all our plans went into disarray. It's now late April 2021, and we have just completed our Triple Crown. The following is my thoughts and impressions on one of the toughest events I've ever done, so far.

Stage 1 - Alice Springs twilight run

Victorian runners at the start of stage 1. The first day, and an afternoon start in the warmth.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

Mandatory gear check and race brief completed, We all trooped up the road towards the Botanic Gardens and our race start at 5:00pm for Malbunka, and 5:30 for the Namatjira (short course race). It was warm, but not too hot, although we were sure that would change once we started running. Lots of greetings, hugs, and general banter as we waited around for Sam Maffet (Rapid Ascents RD) to start us off. Nicky was there for a few minutes before she headed off to run her race which started about 3k away from our start. Most of us not actually believing we were finally getting to run. A group photo (one above), a few words from Sam and then the countdown.

Sunrise occurred just as I climbed to the highest point.

Now I had planned this event for months, each day had a strategy. Day 1 was to stretch the legs, keep a good pace but not get sucked into racing hard. But with the surge of adrenalin, we were all off charging down the path that followed the Todd River. Lots of chat, still a bit of banter going on. It was a pacey start that would soon have the field stringing out, the chat stop, and the pace settle down as we headed away from Alice and towards the trails. I suspected I was comfortably midfield as we commenced what was a series of undulations all the way to the finish line. Most of the trails here were walking trails, wide enough to pass a runner, mostly soft sand, but easy to run on. The temperature was cooling, but we were all getting hot, sweating away as the kilometres ticked off.

At the 6k mark, we turned onto a road that gently swept around back towards Alice Springs before we headed off on a trail again and the longest climb today (Considering what we climbed over the next 3 days, it was minor)

A few locals out walking must have wondered what was going on, a congo line of red-faced, sweaty runners huffing and puffing their way around the course. A marshal waved us towards a different trail and the climb that took us towards the photographer. He'd forewarned us at the race brief that he'd be on the top of a climb in order to get the stunning background in the picture. You can only help but smile as you struggle up past him to get THAT shot!
Passed friend Ingrid. "How are you going?", I ask. Was not expecting her answer, "I've fallen over, bashed my knee and hand but have bruised a rib and it hurts to breathe". Oh shit, not on the first day... She was still running, but I was putting distance between us as she slowed up.

Nicky running day 1, short course. 
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

By now I've stopped to put the headtorch on, waiting for the light to get dark enough that the beam works. and no sooner had I got it on and it was dark, Central Aus not mucking around with twilight, straight into inky blackness. So far the trail has been straightforward to run on, even though the rocks spaced at regular intervals made it a bit of a lottery with foot placement.

Now, in darkness with only the beam of your headtorch to light the way, it became a bit more tricky. I had been following a friend Karen for a while, slowly catching her. As we hit a road at the 15k mark, I realise her torch is a bit dim. She'd changed batteries that morning, but no go, it was next to useless. I ran close behind her for a while, trying to light the trail before we realised it was better if I was in front, calling out obstacles as we passed over them. That seemed like a good idea until I realised just how many obstacles, trip points there were.
"Rock left", "rock right", "tree root", "step up", "rocks, many of them", "step down", "rocks". After about a kilometre Karen called out that she was using her phone torch, probably taking pity on me having to narrate our way to the end. We hit a road briefly, then turned left onto the path. (Nearly missed the path, and I reckon a few others did miss it).

Very soon I was aware of bright lights coming up behind me. Thinking it was a runner with 700-lumen Ayups, I turned round to let them pass. Only to find out it was 6 cyclists, out burning up the MTB trails we were on. With lights on handlebars and their heads, it was like something out of Close Encounters of the Third Kind! They were incredibly apologetic, "Sorry, sorry" etc. I was dripping with sarcasm, "No worries, we only race here once a year!" 😀

Suspect I was the first competitor with my headtorch actually on. 
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

The last few k's, I slowed up a bit, trying to conserve energy for the big run tomorrow. I was sweating a fair bit and although I'd been sucking down the water and electrolytes, I was still a bit dry-mouthed. A few runners starting to come up behind me at the same time as we are catching the tail end of the short course field. They are happy to step aside for faster runners, as I do too. We all give encouragement to each other, we may be competing, but we also support one another.

And before I know it, a brief snatch of the finish line PA system can be heard, a row of illuminated lights appears and our final path to the finish shute starts. 2:15 for 20.6k. Probably about 10 to 15 minutes faster than I planned. But I wasn't fatigued at the end, sweaty though. As soon as I stopped the sweat poured out, rivers of it 🤮

Nicky was there, having finished her race not long before I came through. Another 30 seconds and Karen finished phone in hand, bemoaning her bad luck. Thankfully we wouldn't need torches again for the rest of the event. A few other friends were already finished; tales of near misses with tripping, actually tripping with minor cuts, and a few with some hefty cuts.

A quick drink and eat at the finish line, then we joined to queue for the buses back to our accommodation. It was nearly 8:30 by the time we got back into our unit, shower, food (2-minute noodles to the rescue), and a cup of tea as I sorted through gear for tomorrow, finally setting the alarm for 4:30. It wasn't an especially early start in the morning, but I wanted to make sure I was up, alert, and fully fed before heading out again. That was day 1 done. We were underway and, with very little recovery, it was going to be our biggest day tomorrow.

Stage 2 - Simpsons Gap to Standley Chasm

Startline at Simpsons Gap.
The Marquee and equipment were for a Masterchef episode they were filming there. 
It was the coldest morning of the 4.

Bleary-eyed and a bit stiff, we boarded the bus for the short trip out to Simpsons Gap. We'd been warned this was the hardest day of this event, so we were a bit apprehensive as we readied ourselves for the day ahead. Arrived at Simpsons Gap to find a stunning array of marquees, tables, toilets etc. Rapid Ascent really pulling out all stops with race details. That is until we find out it's for a Masterchef episode they are filming today. good luck with the flies, contestants 😂 Ingrid was on the bus, thigh heavily bandaged and saying it hurt to breathe. But she was determined to start and see if things eased up as she warmed up into the run. 
The prep was the same each morning. Keep the warm clothes on as long as possible, make sure everything is tucked safely into the hydration vest, check the bladder is connected properly, slather on the sunscreen. We get photos in front of the start line, linger around chatting about last night's race and about what to expect from today. Even now, you are talking to other runners who aren't your friends, but in most cases are your direct competitors. Drop out gear bags into the support vehicle, head down onto the sand between the flags, and at quarter to 7, we were off. 

The grass in the foreground was the culprit that covered the trail. This was taken about
2k in, from memory. Certainly early in the day.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

The first section, through the car park, then onto a stony single-track that winds its way towards the distant hills. I'm acutely aware of the sound of a thousand bees and am wondering if I'm hallucinating early today. No, it was the photographers' drone. A conga line of runners snaking along, some trying to pass in impossible parts, others like me content to hold back and not get caught up in the fast start. We eventually sort ourselves out after about 2k, ending up in pairs or groups of 4. The trail is difficult to follow (make that impossible in parts). As noted before, recent rains have greened up this area, more so than the race organisers have ever seen. As a result the grasses are growing right over the track, both sides so that at times, the merest hint of a shadow of a trail can be seen. That might sound inconsequential, but given the very rocky nature underfoot, foot placement was critical. And when you can't see where your foot is going, it becomes a lottery.

So it was slow going. Run a bit, trip on a rock, walk a bit, gain confidence to run a bit, trip a bit. Rinse and repeat... If that wasn't enough to put us off, periodically we would lose the trail altogether. Like, just run straight off it and suddenly realise you were just in the middle of a grassland. 

Go on, find the trail! Yes, there is pink ribbon,
but where is that trail?
Photo credit: Duncan Gillis

At one point, running in a group of 4, we split up like an aerobatics formation team. Each one of us then stopped, yelling to each other, 

"See the trail". 

"No".
"Pink ribbon, blue marker? Anything?"
Finally, "Over there". We were all less than 20 metres away from it. Rejoined it and it looked like a highway; how could we have missed that? 100 metres later it peters out again and we blunder around for a minute retracing our steps. It eventually got better, but the mental and physical energy required to push through was taxing. 

So far the temp is cool, even with the sun climbing around the peaks over our right shoulders. I'm now just travelling along with one other runner. He is content to stick behind me; I run, he runs, I walk, he walks. I don't mind, company, even fairly non-verbal along here is appreciated. But after a period he gets a little too close and starts stumbling on every little rock. I have a theory, you have only so many half-trips/stumbles before the big one arrives; the face-plant. It's a bit like the warning signs before a volcanic eruption 😀 After a period I contrive to take a photo and let him go. Then wonder if I'll find him face down an hour later...

The trail is obvious from the air, naturally!
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

Conscious it's a long day ahead, I start eating early. Mainly cliff bars, but also a gel. The first aid station is about 10k in and I want to refuel there as well as eat on the run. Nicky is also volunteering today, at this aid station, so something to look forward to. A few runners come past, I pass a few as we play leapfrog along the trail. 8k in and I'm already doing the maths on my watch re ETA at aid stations, finish line etc., and already looking like a long day. I figured maybe it wasn't going to be my day, getting left behind.

Kylie and Nicky, a welcome sight at the first aid station.
Photo credit: Nicole Walsh

Hit the aid station about 1 hour 20, not too bad. But I felt a bit stuffed already. Kylie and Nicky were busy as there were already a few people here as I pulled in. Love a fully stocked aid station. On today's menu; watermelon, orange quarters, bananas cut in half, assorted lollies, cake (Coles brand light and dark) plus water and Tailwind if you needed it. I was self-sufficient with electrolyte, so just needed water. A few pieces of dark fruit cake, watermelon and orange, then off on my way again. For some reason, I find myself running at the back of a small group again, and although we thinned out over the next 18k, we still managed to hit the next aid station together again. 

As noted, it was 18k to the next checkpoint. The trail has opened out a little and is gently climbing. In fact, it's been climbing gently since the carpark at the start, and 22k in climbing over a largeish hill, we have already clocked up about 500 metres of elevation gain on what looks like a flat trail. The temperature is now getting warm. But it's dry, so you don't sweat anywhere near as much as you would normally (well I would be sweating heaps by now).

One of the many smaller climbs we encountered before the bigger climb
that shot us to pieces later on.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

Along this section I had my own period of mini trips and stumbles, wondering if the next one was going to be the Full Monty. managed to stay upright, more arse than class. Kilometres 23 to 27 were downhill, descending off a peak. You'd think we could speed up a little coming down the path, but it twisted and turned enough and was littered with loose rocks and stones that it was dangerous in parts, impossible to run in others. 

Along here, I passed Jason. He'd fallen and cut his hand badly, was patched up but taking it easy getting into the next aid station. I wondered how many others had tripped along here.

A couple of female runners were ahead, about 500 metres, I'd catch sight of them on a climb, lose them on the other side, catch sight of them again. It was a nice game to play, seeing if I could stay close enough without overdoing it. As we approached the 27k mark, we came to a section of the trail that just ended up on a dry creek bed. Admittedly the trail beforehand had the subtle appearance of a dry creek bed, this was the real deal. I'd caught up to one of the women in front of me, and we walked down, at times just checking the path actually did run down here. The trail curves around to the right (on the map it is marked as a ribbon of blue, but now it's just dry and dusty), and eventually we can see cars parked and a marquee on the other side of a waterhole (with real water, what we'd give to swim across that). Red and white marker tape blocked us from entering the waterhole, and instead, we were diverted up another dry creek bed, this one more of a scramble than before.

Wondering where this was going (sighting the aid station then being diverted was like running away from the MCG during Melbourne Marathon, RD's can be bastards at times...). I hear other voices, look around and behind, no-one there. The runner behind me says, "Look up to the left". I look up and see runners snaking their way over a sharp little hill.

"You're shitting me".

"I shit you not" was the reply.

So the final 200 metres sees us trudging up a steep hill then down the other side. Alarmingly, we spot a massive blood splatter on the rocks on the way down. Not so much a cut knee as a violent murder. Later on, we found out it was just tree sap, but for a second there...

28k aid station, never been so happy to finally arrive there. A ute had been pulled up and water containers placed on the back for us to fill up. Marshals were taking down numbers of runners, a safety precaution more than checking if we were cheating. The usual array of food and I ate a large amount. We still had 14k to go and already I've been on my feet for over 4 hours. A couple of friends here, Darian and Matt, have walked in with another runner who has tripped, banged himself up a fair bit and is considering whether to pull out. The vollies are desperately trying to convince him to carry on, "You'll regret it if you don't finish, you can walk it from here and still beat cutoff", etc. (Spoiler alert: he did continue and made it!).

The path is directly ahead!

This was my longest stay at aid so far, I needed to cool down a bit and needed to fill up with a minimum of 3 litres of water. (We were only going 14k, 3 litres? Oh, how we laughed. We were young and naive!) I headed out at a walk, Darian and Matt following me out and we chatted along the way. Eventually, Matt wanted to push on, tired of walking and I let them go through. They ran/walked sections, I hiked along behind them. By the time we approached the major climb, I was still within sight of them. I look up and spy the trail snaking its way to the top of the climb. It didn't look easy, and my flagging energy levels didn't fill me with confidence. But climbing is my thing, I can hike the shit out of a climb and go as fast as someone running slow. 

Just as the climb started, I pulled into the bushes to urinate. To my horror, it was chocolate brown and smelt awful. Shit, dehydration. Never had this before. Slightly alarmed I stopped and thought through the situation. I wasn't feeling ill, I was about to climb so no walking meant I could probably drink a bit more frequently than usual. I carried on, firstly draining my soft flask dry, then starting on the 2-litre bladder. I left the flask that had electrolytes in it alone, just wanted as much water as I could safely take on. 

On the climb on the way up, smiling. And why not, look at the view behind me!

There were a few runners ahead of me, high up on the climb. Even though I thought I was moving slowly, I started to catch up and soon we were a group again. Darian, Matt, and another runner.  It was a slog though, the surface had loose rocks, it twisted and turned enough, then occasionally just decided not to follow the contour and go straight up. Legs really feeling it now, body fatiguing and the heat starting to rise into the mid 20's. Hit the top around 5:50, 33k in. Still 9k to go, and a good chunk downhill. I had no illusions that it was going to anything but hard, but at least thought it would be straightforward. A runner I'd been around earlier in the day, Jacqui, was helping out another runner near the top. He'd cramped severely and was struggling just to stand. Whatever Jacqui did, it worked, he could at least walk. Darian and Matt had stopped, then continued on, I stayed with Jacqui and Gareth to help him through until Jacqui continued on, then it was just Gareth and myself. Once we started to descend, Gareth moved a lot easier. clearly downhill less painful than up. He assured me he was ok, so I ran on, seeing if I could catch the others again.

Then we hit the descent. And OMG. Rocky, steep, stunning views, but a trip here and it would have been catastrophic. There is a Strava segment here, called Freefall. It's not ironic. Kilometre 36 had a 220-metre elevation loss, all on a hard rocky trail. I caught the group, a few others also caught up and around 6 of us ended the descent, only to turn up into another dry creek bed. 

This one was a real scramble. At times we lost the trail going around boulders and rocky overhangs. We knew it was straight up the creek, but at times it was tough finding the way. We all took turns losing the trail for others to find it for us. Slow going, but we kept moving, the only way to get to the finish. Just before a particularly hard section, we came across another runner in distress. Aaron had cooked himself badly, was moving, but at an almost snail's pace. 

We had to climb around a dry waterfall, anyone with a fear of heights might have hated this (might? would have...). Aaron tacked onto the back of our group and started to move better, probably nice having someone else around. Nothing worse than being ill and on your own. 

I'd started looking at my watch way too frequently; it wasn't going to make the finish line come quicker, and it wasn't pacifying me that we were making good time. All our target times, long since blown away on the major climb, maybe even before it.

Yes, there is a trail, of sorts. It's a dry creek bed and getting pretty bloody warm at 2 in the afternoon.
L-R: Tani, Matt and Darian.

The trail moved away from the creek for a small climb where a race official was positioned with emergency water. He advised us it was about 3k to go, with 2 hills to climb to get to the finish. 2 more? Fuck it... Then we were descending, hitting a creek that led directly to Standley Chasm. As we approached we could see the cleft in the rock, the stones leading down along with course markers, my watch ticked over the 40k mark. 
Hallelujah, nearly home. We hadn't bargained on the hills though. A short way in and we turn right from the creek bed, and once again look at a trail that climbs sharply over a hill. As we climb up, came across a runner throwing his guts up, friend Andrew. I stayed with him until he was capable of walking, and we trudged up the first hill. I could hear voices across the other side, spectators urging the runners in front of us to keep moving. As Andrew and I got to the saddle and looked across, there was an even steeper and longer climb on the other side. 
We walked down, started the climb and Andrew said he'd take a breather. He was fine, just needed to take it in stages. He was okay with me going on, so I kept going up the climb. It took me 2 goes; several stops with hands on knees, quads, calves aching and body stuffed, to get to the top.  I had to remind myself that I sign up for this shit, no one forces me to do it! A little chuckle to myself, then down the last steep descent. It, at least, is a well-formed stone path/steps and I can move down at a reasonable pace.

At the bottom, a marshal or spectator (can no longer remember) says it's downhill all the way. Now, where have we heard that before, kiddies? It's a well-formed path that just screams day-use area, we must be close. An official walking up says it's just around the corner. Now, where have we heard that before, kiddies? And bugger me if it was. Probably a tad over 400 metres along the path I could hear the music playing and then see the finish shute, never a more glorious sight. I was stuffed and pretty well done in. Finish time of 7:50:09 was so far outside my original target time, it's not worth noting.

If ever a finish photo sums up my day perfectly, this is it.
Photo credit: Matt Hull (https://themattimage.com)

A few minutes later Andrew came through, having battled away over the last k. His first thoughts were that he wasn't confident about backing up tomorrow. Wait and see, was my reply. Walked around in a daze for a bit, eating, drinking before finding my clothes bag and getting the wallet to go buy a chocolate milkshake. On top of the coke and all the other wildly nutritious foods I'd stuffed into my body throughout the day, a milkshake couldn't be any worse. In fact, it was just the best, ice-cold, full of chocolate and cream and ice!

As a few other runners came in and we compared notes, it was heartening to see we all had taken much longer than we'd anticipated, even given the warnings by the race directors of how hard this stage was. But by then, we were already thinking ahead to tomorrow and whether we could back up, and how would the body respond if we did.

There endeth day 2 😌

Postscript: Thankfully the dehydration was short-lived as I was fine later that afternoon. 

Elevation profile just doesn't do this justice!

In case you're wondering about the blog name, it references a song by AphexTwin. The song title a hint to the terrain we ran over. This is a most unusual video set to the song.

I Shall Not Walk Alone

It was supposed to be redemption, coming back after a 2-year absence AND dropping back to the 50. It didn't quite pan out that way, but that's the beauty of ultras, you just never know how your day is going to end up. And having a trusted friend by your side? Well, that means the day was just fine.

Duncans 50k

Belle and I did the 100 2 years ago, signed up in 2019 for the 2020 event (COVID saw to that, and every other bloody race for nearly 11 months in Victora), and then a year later finally fronting up for the event. We went in with a good deal of confidence, training going well, no injuries or any concerns (although I was nursing a bruised rib, more about that later), and a positive mindset that no matter how hard it might get, it wasn't the 100, there wasn't going to be any Loop 3 disasters (see Jeremy for 100k report) and none of the climbs was 4 Mile (see here for that reference)! 

We had also run together at Warburton, the Donna Double. A 22k run with 1000 metre of vertical climb up, then, of course, the reverse for the descent. It was a calf and quad smasher, but we both ran well, had a good time and were really happy with our racing.

As days go, it wasn't the worst. It wasn't the best either. 😃

It all started well. Lift up with my friend Caz; in the dark driving up the Monash Highway looking at the splats of rain on the windscreen, the low cloud reflecting the lights from Lou Yang power station. It was a bit eerie. On the drive up the Traralgon-Balook Road, we came across a dead wombat. Fresh kill, too. Caz stops and we get out to check. Unfortunately, a mother and a fairly old one too. She was a fair size, but in good health, no mange at all. But, she had a very young bub in the pouch and there was nothing we could do for the poor bugger. Too young to nurture back to health to grow to an adult. So maybe not the best start to the day...

Arrived at Balook, it was cool, infrequent showers would sweep across and we all tried to keep under shelter and dry before the race started. As with most events in Victoria in 2021, it was a reunion of sorts. Many of us catching up for the first time in over a year with conversations falling back to how well we'd prepared and how much we looked forward to getting out on the course. Oh, we were so young and naive!

How it started! All smiles with about 10 minutes to go

Around 10 minutes before we were to head off and after we'd stowed bags in the bag drop area, some of us smothered ourselves in insect repellent (if there'd been a bath, several would have dived full in, like a sheep dip) and checking we had all our water, electrolytes and food in the pack, we were called to the start line. The idea to head off in waves of 40. 2 waves. Not wanting to start too near the front, I wandered a fair way back and Belle followed. We soon realised we'd put ourselves into wave 2 (we wanted wave 1, but I wanted to start near the back). Before we could jump in, the wave was off. Never mind. But we ended up 2 rows from the front. The mantra of "Don't go out too fast" kept rolling through my head. The 3 minutes in between waves seemed to go at light speed. (My law of time states that as you near the start of a race, time increases exponentially. One minute you're casually pulling gear out of your kit bag, yakking with mates, next minute you're running over the start line, stuffing crap into your vest, trying to start the watch and making sure you don't trip on the start mat)

Start, Loop 1

Timer clock ticks over to 8:02:50. Matty V gets on the mic;
"Ready to go folks, start in 5, 4 ,3..."
Belle screams, "Look at this fucker, Les". I peer at the minuscule leech dancing on her finger. "It's an omen!", she says.
Matty V, ".. 2, 1, GO!" 
Off we go. All I can hear is Belle behind me going, "Get off me. Farrrrkkkking thing, OFF!". I can only think what the start line photos will look like, me laughing my head off, Belle looking cranky, waving her finger around in the air!

The first part has us exiting the start/finish area and heading down south to do a loop around the eastern side. The "don't start fast" mantra still in my head.
So anyway, after the first 2k of sub 6, barreling down to where friend Geoff Markley is marshalling, we finally settle down and get into proper ultra race mode; run the downs and the flats, hike the hills. After 4k we return briefly to the start line, barricades lined with runners and supporters, calling our names out as we run past. Then we head down Link Track towards the main road then up Telecom Track on the first loop, known as the Mt. Tassie loop. We run/walk this section up to where Caz is the marshal. Fellow BBR, Nick Gregory has been running near me most of the way so far, as we head up the top end of Drysdale Road. Belle has cleared out to about 70 odd metres at this point and I thought she was feeling strong and carrying on. I was happy to let her go if she was up for a race. 

Right on 6.5 k, viewing each tree as a potential toilet, I ducked off to relieve myself. Doesn't matter how often or how close to the start I go, I often need to go again. A quick look behind revealed a runner about 15 or seconds behind. Beauty, I only need 10 seconds. 20 seconds later he passes as I pop out of the bush. Push on up Drysdale only to see Belle waiting for me. Seems Nick told her I'd ducked off for a slash. We head down the trail to cross the main road again and descend to the Duffs Sawmill track, the scene of many a leech encounter here 2 years ago.

I love this section, it's hard in places to get rhythm running, but the ferns, the mosses, the smells of the damp undergrowth are worth the entry price alone (Loop 2 tends to make allowances in the other direction). A group of us are travelling through here, Nick, Carl Kouldelka and we caught up with Diana from DTR. Windy section, many cutbacks, slippery track with dud camber then pop out onto a logging road. Several years ago this road was a track, now it's gravelled, the sides trashed to widen it as forestry operations are happening in the area. I know forestry is important, we need timber, but gee it's depressing seeing the aftermath of an operation.

Turn back onto some single trail again and head towards Callignee South Road. So far, everything going well for both of us, a nice pace, no leeches for Belle and the weather is still cool. Humid as all feck, but fine for running in. On Calignee South Road and Andy Payne catches up with us. His first race since August 2019, was a bit of unknown territory for him and the poles out to assist. We tracked together, the 3 of us along the track across the top on Mt. Tassie (highest point on the 21, 50 and 100k courses. But don't ever say it's all downhill from here because it definitely is not!).

View from Mt. Tassie, our highest point today.

Off the top of Mt. Tassie, down a grass track, that sounds appealing, but I always think it's a trap to invert or break ankles. Aid station across the Traralgon-Balook Road again and then the first of several quad smashing descents for the day. This one lasts 4k and drops us 300+ metres down into the valley. Downhills are fun, until you realise that you will have to go back up again. When Belle and I finally get to the bottom I say to her, "Didn't think that was going to end". Her unprintable reply was probably not the first time I was going to hear that today. Walk up a short section, back down a bit more (Seriously? Like we are now at 400 metres, we need to be at 640...) 

Andy passes us again on the up and it's the last we'll see of him until the finish line. And we start the long, slow trudge up Drysdale Road again. The first runner comes back the other way (50k course goes up, then comes back down again. I know, sadistic, isn't it!). It's Corey (aka Junkyard dog on the socials, well not Facebook, Corey doesn't do Facebook, or maybe Facebook doesn't let Corey on there...). Before I can ask him his place, he tells me John Dutton (eventual winner) has gotten away from him. So 2nd it is, atm. Who knows how a race pans out though.

Drysdale Road is exposed, long and just a bit sucky. We climb a cool 250 metres in 2k before it flattens enough to run. A number of 50k runners coming back down towards us, all giving us a cheer as they pass, we return the cheer back. Past Caz again at her marshal point. She has a balloon shaped into what she calls, Larry the Leech. (Vollies, getting into runners minds since the dawn of time). Back onto Telecom, which is a welcome descent. Cross the road, round the trail that goes over the suspension bridge and back into the start/finish in 2 hours 57 minutes for 23k. I'd hoped for 2:40 for 21, so we were pretty much on time, and feeling pretty good about proceedings so far.

Loop 1 finish, Loop 2 start

Corrigan Suspension Bridge, end of loop 1.

Quick stop, Belle grabbed her hiking poles from my bag, I changed over drink bottles, grabbed more gels and ate a bit of homemade date loaf. Walked out of the transition area eating and letting any food and drink get settled in the stomach. For a brief period, back going the same way we had gone before, heading up Telecom Track towards Caz. Except for this time, turn left and head down Drysdale Road towards the turn-off for what Belle and I remember as Loop 3 from the 100. Only it's now Loop 2, and we are doing 50. Plenty of 50k runners still coming down Telecom, many of them friends or runners I know. Veronica and Jennifer could be heard well before they were seen, such was the conversation they were having!

Must admit to taking a few deep breaths as we started heading down. Just getting myself into a positive frame of mind. And then the realisation that we were continuing on yet another long grinding descent. this one packed a 300-metre loss in 4k. All of it runnable, but shit the legs felt good to stop the pounding as we hit the bottom and headed up. A quick look towards Belle, and confirmation that the last descent could take a flying jump. Maybe it was the look in her eyes, maybe it was the angry face, maybe it was because she said, "that was farked". Never die wondering with my trail mate! Very soon we hit a crossroads and I immediately recognised where we took another trail in 2019 that added several kilometres to our run. At this point in the 100, it was 60k, only a cool 28 here. This climb only 2k and 110 metres of vert. Pffft, nothing really (that was sarcasm). Belle and I hiking up here having a good ol chat and a half. The cloud had cleared a bit, it was warming up and the scenery was quite lovely through the forest. It was still mainly undisturbed (well, from recent events; fire or forestry). Despite the fatigue in the legs, we were ok, just moving one foot in front of the other.

Then another descent. This one a 3 and half k losing 200 metres along the way. We could still run these, but every time I looked at my HR, it was in zone 4, trying desperately to creep into 5 and blow me to pieces. I was pretty much on the edge, Belle seemingly much better. It was on this down that a recent rib injury started to make its presence known. My initial conversation with Belle was that I'd start and if after the first loop it was ok, I'd continue on. And it was. But now, 33 odd ks in, it was going beyond mildly uncomfortable, to reasonably uncomfortable to sore. Not much I could do, grin and bear it I suppose. It was a silly injury; sweeping at Sharpies Beer on the previous Saturday, I'd tripped on a rock on a set of stairs and landed on my chest. Winded me and bruised a rib in the process. The funny thing is, though, I've stacked 3 times since December, and Julie Azzopardi was been witness to 2 of them, and in the general vicinity for the 3rd (Mt. Buller). Now, not trying to draw conclusions, but... 

At the bottom was a water drop, could have done with one in 2019 when we started running out of water. Topped my water up, and then we moved on to the next climb. This one a nasty 5k with 385 metre of vert, 123 of it packed into the last k beyond the aid station at the 39k mark. At the 36k mark, I could hear voices behind us, 3 runners catching us. One was Diana from DTR, the other 2 were a male runner, approximately my age, and a young kid. A few hellos as Diana went past, she was pushing up the hill better than we were. The other 2 were in front, or near us for another k before they too got ahead on a shallower climb. Belle and I discussing (after they were out of earshot) the age of the kid, he looked very young. I said 15, Belle thinking similar, maybe a year younger. We were surprised, but watching him push his dad (an assumption there, we didn't really know the connection at all) it looked like he was the stronger of the 2.

Hit the aid station at 39k where we crossed The Grand Ridge Road. Stopped as Belle grabbed some water, I downed a gel, knowing the steep shitty climb coming up. And we headed off. Should have saved the gel, did nothing! Belle climbed up that bastard like a Sherpa, whereas I looked like the overfed, unfit paying client she was working for. Stopped a few times, get my breath, lean on the legs. I felt the worst I'd felt all day. Shit, still 13 odd k to go. I was worried. Finally hit the top and it levelled out, and bugger me if it doesn't just slope down again, albeit gently. Belle has waited for me (thanks) and we walk off, then commence a shuffle that eventually increases to a slow jog. Grassy path, another of those "looks good, probably fuck your ankle" sections. And once running, all is good in the world again. I'm such a fickle bugger. 

Passed a runner who is walking, and quite obviously cramping. In an inspired moment packing the night before, I chucked in a cramp gel that I'd grabbed at Two Bays (when I cramped for nearly 14 bloody shit ks), even though I know they don't really work for me. I'd run about 30 metres past him when I remembered, stopped and offered it to him. He took it, grateful that it might help. As I went to head off, he asked me my name.
Me: "Les".
Runner: "You know my sister".
Me: "Umm, do I?" (wondering where the hell this conversation was heading)
Runner: "Yeah, Meg Robinson. I'm her brother".
Me: "Oh yeah, I know Meg" (Shit, thank God for that. 40k into an ultra is no place to have those sorts of conversations. Not that I would or should be or could be, and gee look at me prattling away...)
Anyway, back to the race...

More fun, another longish descent, hoo boy, loving these little babies (sarcasm, again). 2k, 250 metres lost and the first section was littered with bark, leaves and slippery underneath all that. On tiring legs it became treacherous. Numerous times Belle and I caught bark around ankles, in her poles. And then the trail twisted and turned, track camber all over the place. It was dark and cool through here, hard to see some sections. You had to step down from tree roots onto slippery sections, worrying all the time about foot placement. Soon enough, I could hear whoops and hollers through the trees, we must be nearing the aid station on Tarra Valley Road.

And sure enough, as the trail approaches the road and swings back alongside, there is the marquee, just down on the road.
"Go you champion!" yells a voice. "I can see you through the trees!", yells another. "Okey-dokey", I think to myself. Hit the road and jog down. The 2 women vollies are cheering us both in, checking off numbers as we approach.
"5023. Number 23, my husbands' favourite number!". It sounds like some weird chat-up line. But didn't matter, I'd spied the 2-litre bottle of Coke on the table, and had instantly fallen in love. Its tall dark curves luring me into a lifetime of living together, damn the doubters... Some may think it's just Coke. Not in an ultra is it ever-just-Coke. It is simply... life. A few cups later and we were off down the road. Belle had grabbed a can to go, burping all the way down the road; you can take the girl out of Heathmont...

Turning off the road onto Diaper Track (who names these? Really?), the first 100k runner comes past. looking strong, he calmly cruises up the trail, leaving us behind. We hiked on. Very soon we came across our Miracle Unicorn Waterfalltm. Ok, short explanation. We came across this little waterfall on the track about 2k from the Tarra Valley aid station 2 years ago. But today, Belle was wondering if that was an illusion, considering she'd shut out all memories of what was Loop 3! Hence, like an oasis in the desert, the Magical Unicorn Waterfalltm appeared right on the 45k mark. Splash of the face, wet the THIR and grab a good drink. Almost better than Coke, almost...

Miracle Unicorn Waterfalltm 
Picture Credit: Julie Azzopardi

Around the next corner, passed a sign proclaiming Balook being 6.6k away. 2 years ago, we saw this, look at our watches and burst into maniacal laughter, "Absolute bullshit that is 6.6k away. Bloody Parks Victoria signage is WAY wrong!" (Narrator: no it wasn't). Older and potentially wiser, we knew that given we were a tad under 46, that was just about correct on today's money. We continued on, hiking mainly, there was no flat or descent yet. I was often in front, 10 or so metres, occasionally drop back, exchange a few words with Belle, drift forward again. caught sight of a runner ahead, then lost him as he went around a corner, just as Tom Dade came up behind us. Pushing nicely on the up, we wished him well. There was a fair gap between Tom and 1st, but it's an ultra, never in doubt until much closer to home. 

Followed the runner as we approached Bulga Park Road and the last checkpoint before home. Might not have mentioned this before, but we are in the middle of another 5k climb. Only a piffling 245 metres of vert, but by now the legs have well and truly checked out on a beach in The Whitsundays and I'm left with these uncooperative lumps of flesh. Managed to pass the runner ahead, he is cooked, but at least still moving forward. One last final section of ravaged forestry and we cross Bulga Park Road, numbers taken one last time and we are left with the loop back to the finish on Forest Track and Lyrebird Ridge Track. We have 1 kilometre of down, but it's more a shuffle than a fluid run along here, then walk up the final kilometre to where it joins Ash Track.

I stop at this point, 350 metres to go and wait for Belle to catch up. Turn to her to announce with a flourish that we only have 350 metres to go as she looks at me and says, "How much bloody further on this fucking course do we have to do?". I announce with said flourish. She favours me a look that implies, get on with it. We get on with it. 

Finished

And so, 53k later (54 for the Coros fan-girl) and 7:34:38 later we cross the finish line. With a certain irony, the 50k men's podium is being awarded. Plenty of people around, we get a slightly bigger cheer and clap than would normally be afforded. Better than 2019 finishing with no-one in sight except Matty V, whipping up an invisible crowd as we crossed the finish line at 1:00 am in the dark and cold. Good times, Belle, good times!

And, finished.
Photo credit: Rebecca Handscomb

Presented with stubby cooler, THIRtm, medal, and a bottle opener (loving the drinking theme). We have a beer thrust into our hands from RD and mate, Matt Veenstra. It was lovingly downed.

And so, another event ends. It can be lonely in an ultra. Long distances with only yourself for company. Some people love that, and indeed I've spent many an ultra, happy in my own little world of thoughts. That sometimes includes getting one-hit wonders stuck in the head (read here for my last 50 at Duncans for that one-hit wonder). But honestly, it was a joy to have someone along with me the whole day. We didn't always chat, didn't need to, their presence simply enough. But never a bad word between us, always a pleasure, Belle.

And, at the end of the day, this event is all about Duncan Orr and his legacy of trail running in Gippsland, which we are so proud to support and celebrate.

Postscript: Bumped into the young kid we'd seen earlier. Asked his mum his age. 12. Belle and I gobsmacked. Might be a name to keep an eye on. Can't remember what I was doing at 12, sure didn't include running ultras. Didn't include running, full stop.

Second Postscript: On race day I told Belle, no more events until Larapinta in late April. Recover, train a bit more and then taper with a few weeks out. But, Nicky signed up for GoldRush Trail run and it would be rude of me not to go up and support her by running the 24k. Oh, and there is a fundraiser for Good Friday appeal running from Rokeby on Friday, 18k. I'm officially hopeless.

Third Postcript: Miracle Unicorn Waterfalltm 😍It's our name, no-one else's. 

Until next time...

Brave Faces

Oscars Hut 2 Hut, The View from the Rear.

This is more than just a race, more than even a race against the clock. To finish Oscars Hut 2 Hut run, 105k mountain run in the Victorian Alpine region is an achievement itself. You won't find a stellar field of elite runners here, to my eyes 80% of the field is made up of your mid-pack to back of the pack runner (and hiker). No, the object here is to finish, in one piece, within cutoffs that are challenging in this difficult and unrelenting terrain. And beyond the physical run, is the reason this event was born. As fundraising and awareness-raising of and for Autism. Andy and Michelle Payne have 2 Autistic children, Oscar and Archie. Both the 105k (The Oscar) and the 55k (The Archie, new for 2020) are obviously named after them, and this race was borne of their desire to help fundraise for a cause dear to their hearts.
The Oscars page has a bit of other info about the organisation and where the money goes.

A Bit of Background.

Chris Ord (of Tour de Trails fame) had a number of years ago mapped a fairly killer course of 100k around Mt. Buller, The Bluff, Mt Speculation, Crosscut Saw, etc. Through a mutual friend, Andy Payne met Chris at one of his races (Surf Coast Trail Marathon) and got talking all things running. Andy expressed a desire to create an event for charity, Chris explained the course and things just took off from there. I know that sounds easy; in reality, there have been years of planning to get the first event off the ground. And one of the defining ideas of this event is that it is deliberately challenging. Autism is challenging for the Autistic in a non-autistic world, it can be very challenging for parents and siblings and this lasts pretty much forever. The course is tough, but you are out of your comfort zone for a maximum of 55 hours (final cutoff), the runner just has to deal with that short period of time. This year was the 4th running of the event.

Thursday night views from Buller Village. Good to be back in the mountains.

This year, planning took a detour when the summer of horrific fires in eastern Australia meant parts of the H2H course were burnt and Parks Vic had to close the area and all access to sites there were stopped. Ina very short time (mere weeks), the RD's managed to get to race changed to use the new Archies course for both races. H2H doing 2 loops of the Archie course. Rescheduling any race at short notice is tough, for this one it must have been incredibly stressful.

This is my attempt to document this event (not as a race as I wasn't competing) but as a volunteer, sweeping the course and interacting with the competitors as they tackled it. And added to that is the insight I got into the running of a large event, in a remote area and the challenges that were thrown up and dealt with.

This was my first time at the event. A number of friends had always talked it up as a magnificent event, but it had always seemed to coincide with other events I was doing. A good friend, fellow trail runner and lover of beer Nick Cimdins, contacted me on (of all days) my work Christmas party asking if I was interested in sweeping. Even though I was at the time 3 sheets to the wind, I had the presence of mind to say I'm a possibility but will reply later when I'm a bit soberer! Of course, there was no way I was going to knock this back.

Weekend In Buller

An early spanner in the works for us was when our fellow sweep Andrea, rolled an ankle 2 weeks out and let us know she wasn't sure she could make it. She nominated another runner we knew, Kez, as a stand-in and we made preparations to have her join us. (Later diagnosis was a stressie in the mid-foot)

Left work early, drove to Nick's place to drive up with him. Well, that was the plan! When I arrived Nick had already started packing his smaller car to discover not even a Tetris proficiency would have got all our gear in. So my car it was to be. An uneventful drive, we arrived just before 6 in time to grab some dinner tickets and catch up with fellow sweeps and runners. Book into accommodation then down to the all-important race brief.

H2H race briefs are infamous; some banter, a rundown of the charity work, discussion on runner safety, lighting protocols and all the other warnings about the risks of undertaking this event. a few hours in the stuffy cinema in Buller Village had more than a few spooked and questioning their preparation. Andy gave all the sweep teams a final brief; our job was to sweep the runners doing a long day on Friday (79k) with the short day (26k) on Saturday. We weren't to tell people they'd missed the cutoff, just escort them to the next safe point where the vollies there would give them the news. Back to the accommodation, final packing and preparation, then off to bed.

Friday: Buller to Pikes Flat

We met Andy, Chris Ord and the crew at the race hub to await a driver. Our sweep was to start at Pikes Flat, 29k from the start at Buller. To get there, we had a white knuckle ride in a troopy (4WD troop carrier), from Mt. Buller, via Howqua Gap and Circuit Rd. and a few other roads whose signs passed by in a blur! We had been told it would take upwards of 2 hours to get there; leaving Buller at 8:30 to get to pikes at 10:30 at the latest. At one stage I thought we'd get there before we left. I had elected to go in the front with our driver Brendan, being the one I thought would get carsick the easiest. Nick and Kez sat in the back, rolling around with the gear. Sorry...

Arrived at Pikes just after 10, plenty of time to get ourselves organised and pitch tents. Well I would have pitched mine, but stupidly I'd left it in the car at Buller. So in with Nick it was. He'd warned me about its waterproof ability, or lack thereof, and I'd dismissed it out of hand, "We'll be right!" (More on that later...)

All dressed, packs on, we made ourselves known to the 2 groups here doing food and race control, caught up with the EMS crew and watched as the final runners came through before the 11:00am cutoff. Our journey was about to start.

Day 1 sweep: Pikes Flat to Buller

At 11:30am we started up Corn Hill Logging Track. We had given the competitors ahead at least 30 minutes head start, betting between ourselves that we'd not see anyone until very near Howqua Gap, a good 13+k's from Pikes. To get to the road we crossed the Howqua River, first of 14 river crossings for the day. Leave the shoes on, it's only water. The ascent of Corn Hill does not so much approach you as invade your personal space and yell "HOWDY". It was very warm, it was unbelievably humid for a Victorian summer and we all were sweating heavily within the first couple of k's. Huge thickets of blackberry cover both sides of the road; some juicy pickings for us as we climb, a living nightmare for ecologists.

3k in and we come across 2 runners, heading in the opposite direction. Nathan Fenton and Sally Jane Coggins, deep in discussion about "Low hanging fruit". I was late to the conversation, to be fair, both Sally and Nathan thought they were late to the conversation. I was thinking about the blackberries, they were talking about analogies of easy tasks... From them, we found out there were 2 runners about 20 minutes ahead.

The view on the climb up Corn Hill Logging Track. It was bloody hot and sticky.

Within a few k, we'd caught them, the first team that we'd see DNF. Georgie and Anthony were still moving, but knowing that the cutoff time was very difficult. The conditions were tough, I was already going through my water far quicker than I'd anticipated. The first peel of thunder rolls through the valley, the forecast of possible storms becoming probable at that point. The climb up Corn Hill is unrelenting, that is until it drops back down for about 100 metres before it climbs finally to Howqua Gap (or Mullet Gap as the vollies there had nicknamed it). Before the slight descent we'd caught another runner, cramps ruining his day. With about 2k's to go we turned hard left onto Circuit Road and headed to Howqua. Caught our first team runners again, and all 6 of us (3 runners, 3 sweeps) calmly walked into the checkpoint/aid station at 2:20pm.

Mandatory selfie with Caz Derby (or is that Warwick Caper?)
At the infamous Mullet Gap (aka Howqua Gap aid station).

Howqua Gap saw 3 runners already sitting down having missed cutoff, adding to the 3 we escorted in. Stopped for a bit, filled up water (I'd already necked 2 full soft flasks of water and electrolyte in the 2:45 it had taken us to get there). All the way up there had been constant radio chatter; gear to be taken from point a to b, runners from b to c, medical questions and call outs for assistance, etc. Our communications were restricted to checking, checking out of checkpoints.

Vollies here assisting us for water, food, whatever we needed. And it's nice to know so many of them, nothing like a familiar face to lift the spirits. After 6 or so minutes we left to continue the climb to Buller Aid. Sun still pretty hot, but clouds were building over the distant mountains. The next section has some lovely single windy trail. After walking for about a kilometre, Nick suggested we run for a bit, exercise some different muscles and see if we can pick up the runners who'd left 20 minutes before us before the next CP. Wildflowers on the side of the trail, lush green grass in places then passing through a section with very large and old Snow Gums, it was a delightful section to go through. 17k in and we finally pass the actual Corn Hill, Buller Village is visible through the trees, the summit still hidden over the back. On the way to Buller Aid, we pass a set of old Monkey Bars evoking memories of youth. Kez decides to have a swing, soon realising what was easy as a kid, was no more. Adulthood sucks...

25 minutes before we hit Buller we hear on the radio that Kellie Emmerson had left there as a time sweep. Different from us, she would run at a pace consistent with the cutoff times. As she passed runners they would effectively be behind cutoff, giving them 2 choices; either try and stay with her to go past her and get in and out of the next checkpoint under cutoff (highly unlikely), or they would accept their fate and continue on to be pulled at the next checkpoint. Our job then was to stay with the last runner(s) and make sure they got in and that the sweeps were the last ones in. We dubbed Kel The Kelimminator, she made our job easy!

We hit Buller Aid just behind the runners in front of us, they and a few others had DNF'd here. Another quick stop, down an icy cold Coke (shameless plug for sponsorship), then we headed on towards the summit. The last runners out of here before cutoff were now at least 40 minutes ahead, so we pushed on in an effort to stay in contact. Passed a few runners heading back towards the finish, The Kelimminator having tapped them out. No-one was upset, resigned maybe, but everyone we spoke to was understanding of their plight.

Nick and Kez climbing towards Buller Summit. Ski fields look very different in the summer

As we climbed higher, the breeze picked up, the sun was behind clouds and it was a fair bit cooler. We were thankful, it had been pretty oppressive up to this point. Approaching the summit, 2 runners walking back down with crew assure us there is no-one else there. They've been Kelled and are heading back to the village. We don't summit, no need, turn round and head back down towards 4 mile. We still think we are about 40 minutes behind. We agree that the top of 4 mile is not the place to make up time, just climb down safely and in one piece.

View from 4 Mile looking towards The Bluff and Mt. Magdala

Day 1 sweep: Buller to 4 Mile Aid Station

The first 2k on the spur are rocky, steep and at times quite dangerous. Apart from an enforced stop later on due to storms, kilometre 25 took the longest of the day, 22 nervy minutes. Descending meant the breeze stopped, the air warmed up and the humidity made an unwelcome return. I was drenched, Nick was drenched, Kez also. We moved on to a small saddle where the drops on either side are unforgiving. Slip here and it's curtains. God knows how you do this in the murky dawn.

Kez and Nick on the descent on 4 Mile.
Trust me, there is a trail there somewhere.

A bit of chatter on the radio, then base telling everyone to stand by for an important announcement. It seems the forecast of storms was finally going to come true. Severe thunderstorms, heavy rain, strong winds, and possible hail was the possibility. All vollies were told that lighting protocol may be implemented; this would mean ditching running poles (carbon fibre and metal, good conductors!) and heading to lower ground. Or in the event of being caught in the open, finding shelter or assuming a crouched position away from tall trees. We'd been running for a bit on the more gentler section of downhill when we bumped into Kellie. She was with 2 teams, one of whom had just crashed and burned and also had bad blistering. Their day shot, just wanting to get it finished and get off the spur. Kellie checks in with base, no, she's not supposed to be back with us, she's supposed to be about 45 minutes ahead. Kellie says a hurried goodbye then darts off down the track. We laugh that she won't take long to erase that deficit!

A few cracks of thunder come from behind us, not close but it rolls ominously through the valley. Not haven't seen lighting, we couldn't gauge the distance. The 4 women we are following are making their way slowly. 2 teams, one team has stopped to help the injured runner, along with her teammate. The ultimate sacrifice to end your race to help others. It's the environment and the nature of this event. You can race if you want, but if help is needed you'd be callous to continue on. Message on the radio, if sweeps are not on high ground, continue on, but hurry your runners. We pass the message on, and the girls all oblige, trotting off downhill. Whilst runnable, it's still steeper than most trails and has trip hazards all over the place. Checking my watch altimeter and the map, we think we must be less than a kilometre from the river. After a bit more running, a few more cracks of thunder, closer, then the announcement over the radio. Lightning protocol to be implemented; ditch poles and head to 4 Mile Aid to stay and await further instructions. All the runners understood, the race brief from the night before having well and truly drilled this into their brains. Piled them on the side of the track and continued on, only to find we were less than 100 metres to the river. Caught 2 other runners crossing here, being helped across by a vollie and some EMS crew, eager to make sure we made it to safety.

Back in the valley, back alongside the Howqua River again. Entering 4 Mile Aid I was struck by how much smaller it was than other stations, but it was packed with runners, all having missed cutoff. The Kelimminator having swept through and done her work. As I was filling bottles and grabbing bites to eat, Nick, Kez and I discuss the plan ahead. We are still caught here, not allowed to continue, Kellie and potentially half a dozen runners are ahead of us. Time is ebbing away. A friend from Wonthaggi sticks her head around the side of the tent and tells me she and another friend, Michelle have missed the cutoff by 5 minutes. I'm shocked. I saw them at Pikes Flat passing through looking strong, well under the times. I went and checked on Michelle. She looked completely done in, had been vomiting coming down 4 Mile and was in no shape to continue. I was gutted, they'd both trained so well leading up, but shit happens sometimes and there's nothing you can do.

We get the go-ahead to continue from base. Our job not basically redundant. Runners ahead by about 50 minutes, fat chance we'd catch them, just keep running; it's only 6k to 8 Mile Aid and 17k to Pikes Flat!

Day 1 sweep: 4 Mile Aid to Pikes Flat

The trail to Pikes Flat climbs 200 metres over that 17k. It kinda feels flat, but it isn't. That's the only way I can describe it. The Howqua River on our left, the single trail winds up and down alongside it. I'm at the front, so dictating the pace, run a bit, walk a bit, run a bit more. We are trying to close the gap to everyone in front quickly without blowing ourselves up. 3k out from 4 Mile we see a flash of lightning, immediate crack of thunder, very loud. Kez estimates 2k away at most. We are safe in the valley, but it still gives me cause for concern.

4k in and the trail comes back out on 4 Mile Road. As we walk up one of the climbs, a troopy passes us heading to 8 Mile, packed to the gunnels with gear and runners. It was a bit of a sad sight, seeing that. A wave and a smile from the runners in the back and then it was gone over the hill. The road drops down again, we run a bit more and peel off the road back to the trail that leads us directly to 8 Mile Aid Station. Weather is still muggy but the temperature is cooling off a little bit, a final respite after a tough few hours.  I can feel some minor chaffing caused by the sweat drying and the salt deposits grinding away between flesh. My shoes and socks are still damp and despite the only river crossing being 7 hours previous, the constant sweating meant they never properly dried.

At 7 hours and 43 minutes, we rolled into 8 Mile. Radio chatter had started up again and once again the course was closed. We were held indefinitely here, solo runners not left Howqua Gap or Buller Aid were told to go no further. Vollies immediately called us over to sit with them around the fire; offered us cheese and crackers, beer/wine, even happy to supply us with dinner. Nick and I looked at each other, weighing up the risk of eating, then being told to run to Pikes. We were both convinced our sweep stint was going to be cancelled. Kellie was way ahead with the last runners on the course and was going to beat us to Pikes by about 1:10 at this point. We were basically redundant. The longer we stayed, the more Nick and I were convinced they'd send a troopy and drive us back to Pikes. Kez, on the other hand, was raring to run the last 11k. Whilst here we heard a transmission from Pikes saying it was raining, a "deluge". We were sitting around a campfire, dry as, not a drop of rain and only 11k away. Showed how localised the weather was in the valley.

Radio fired up again, Kellie requesting confirmation that the runners with her weren't chasing any cutoffs as they'd passed 8 Mile inside the time. The reply was "Negative, they still need to get into Pikes before 8:30". Confirmed and understood. We had a laugh, if anyone was going to be able to cajole weary runners to move faster, it was Kellie.

After 45 minutes base asks us if we are okay to travel under our own steam to Pikes. Guess that troopy wasn't coming after all! And realistically, it was an hour to Pikes by 4WD, an hour back. etc. We could do it in that time and considering the radio messages flying back and forth getting runners and gear ferried around, we considered ourselves a very low priority. And that was fine. We left the comfort of the fire and the hospitality of the crew and started moving our weary bones and body. Everything was stiff, it was in the early dusk and we had 13 river crossings to do before we were finished. 500 metres and we cross the first one, the low light making it hard to spot good places to put our feet. We all had a near fall into the river. A few more crossings after about a kilometre and a half and it was too dark for me. I stopped and put the head torch on, a brand new Led Lenser (2nd shameless plug for sponsorship). It lit the trail beautifully. A few more crossings, and then it was dark. Kez, who'd bantered to Nick and I about our climbing ability earlier in the day (we moved quickly and ended up waiting for her at the top of climbs), suddenly found her rhythm and was leading from the front. By now we'd crossed the bulk of the crossings and my energy is fading, fast. As Kez and Nick moved ahead, I was left following 2 headlamps distantly on the trail. At one point I thought I heard voices, looked up only to realise it was the radio on Nicks's hip We heard that Kellie had got her crew in with only minutes to spare, that was welcome news. The day had been littered with a high number of DNF's, many runners underestimating the difficulty of the course, throw in the tough weather conditions and it was no wonder many failed to complete day 1.

After about 9k from 8 Mile, Nick grabs his map notes out and has a read. "Good news, it's not as far to Pikes as we thought!". And indeed, very soon we spied a light further up the river, could only be the campsite. As we approached the camp, we could see fires, bodies around those fires, tents. Then the calls rang out, cheering us back in. And so, at 9:47pm we ended our day after 10:17 hours on the move... I was pretty well stuffed, and half wondering if I was going to be right to get up and do 26k the following day. This had been the longest time on my feet since Duncans 100k, nearly 11 months previous. But tomorrow was another day, make the decision then. All 3 of us went and sat in the river, cool off, wash ourselves down (I could smell myself, I was that rank.)

I was given a sausage in bread with onion and sauce (never, ever tasted so good), a Crown Lager and then a massive piece of steak for dinner. I always struggle to eat so soon after an event, and tonight was no different. A third of the steak eaten, the rest lay discarded. A bit of a waste, but I had no issues downing the Crowny! Around the fire were the sweeps for the 3-day competitors, Mike, Shane, Tom, Ross, and Ngaire. Swopped a few tales regarding the day both teams had and discussed how we'd approach tomorrow.

Nick and I then surveyed the damage inside his tent. Very wet was the initial response, saturated was the outcome of the Royal Commission. We dried everything as best as we could, climbed into our damp sleeping bags and attempted to sleep. Tomorrow, in 5 hours time, we get up and do it all again.

Day 2 sweep: Pikes Flat to Buller Village.

3:30am, rudely awaken from a dream, disjointed sleep, and bright lights. Some competitors were getting up at this time to get ready to leave for 5. My alarm was set for 4:30am, so much for that then...

Rolled out of bed at 4:30am, a bit stiff, but not too bad. Nick and I packed up bags, tent, sleeping mats and went off in search of food. Lots of movement around the camp, many runners and the 3-day hikers up and checking in before the 5:00am start. Didn't want to eat too much; banana and 2 chocolate milks seemed to be sufficient. I felt much better this morning than I'd expected; stronger than I figured, or the feel of dry, clean clothes, dry socks, etc.

Sunrise as we climbed Corn Hill Logging Track with the 3-day hikers.

Still pitch black at 5, runners and hikers are sent on their way, marching across the Howqua River to discover the delights of Corn Hill Logging Track (many for the first time!). We'd discussed with the other sweep team that our runners would be pushing up the hill much faster, so we'd push on ahead, them to take to the tail position. 5:15am, and off we go. Water in the Howqua was warm, socks immediately wet, then the climb of the first steep ascent. This morning it is muddy and slippery after the rain the afternoon before.

Moon setting over the western side of the trail as we
ascended Corn Hill.

Within 20 minutes we came across the first hiker. Starting here, and with every person we passed, we asked if they were a 3-day or 2-day competitors. We were looking to find the 2-day. But regardless, we inquired how they were, chatted about what they needed to do today and how that would relate to tomorrow (The Sunday). Today, 3-day hikers had 5 hours to get to Howqua, but only 3 on Sunday. Our advice was it might be a good idea to see how close to 3 hours you could do today, to give yourself an idea if it was achievable. And given they would have another 55k in the legs today, that may or may not be achievable at all on the following day.
Everyone we passed we had basically the same conversation. Hoping in some small way that we could encourage as many as possible to complete the task ahead.

Thankfully so much cooler than yesterday, still a bit muggy and before long, many competitors were stopping to peel off outer layers and stash them in packs. Caught up with my friend, Caz (Donovan). She and Rachel were steadily heading up the climb, in good spirits and sounding nice and positive. Met our first 2-day runners at about the 5k mark. But they had already DNF'd the previous day missing cutoff at 4 Mile. They had permission to hike out to the finish and were happy to keep pace with us. Ahead of us, on the switchback, was a congo line of head torches, the occasional snatch of conversation, or just some huffing and puffing. I was quietly struck by the very different nature of many competitors. No disrespect, but many did not identify with the common image of people competing in these events. All ages, all statures, seemingly as many women as men. It is part of what I was discovering was the appeal to this event. As I mentioned before, not one for a big elite field, but everyone just as dedicated; to the race and the cause. I was impressed and inspired by many.

Trigger Happy trail, Nick travelling through stands of dead Snow Gums.
Views across the Howqua Valley are stunning on a day like today.

Once again, Kez was having a crack at Nick and my climbing/hiking prowess. I felt much stronger today, no real effects of the long day out. Promising news for me, I have a 4-day multi-stage race in August, and this weekend was a good pointer to my early preparation. As we turned onto Circuit Road, I knew we were at a similar time as yesterday. By now we are letting the teams know they are withing tomorrow's cutoff and travelling well, a bit of positive reinforcement never goes astray! And with a slight sense of deja vu, we sauntered into Howqua again, this time faster than the day before. Ate more here than yesterday, and filled up on what I missed at breakfast. Chat with Caz Derby and Ali, they told us about sheltering from the storm the evening before. We waited until about 8:30am before heading off again, onto the nice single trail called Trigger Happy (beside Wollybutt Track). Still passing teams, well withing cutoff, our job mainly to tell them how bloody awesome they all are and to keep plugging away. Our nearest last team that we would need to chaperone is most likely 45 minutes in front of us. The radio not quite as noisy as yesterday, fewer runners, conditions so far not as harsh and given the more generous cutoffs, less likelihood of DNFs and the need to pick up bodies and gear all over the place.

9:30am into Buller Aid Station, a beautiful blue sky day across the region. We all looked forward to getting the 360-degree views from the summit, just a small matter of the 3k's of climbing to get there. This must be a rude shock to the underprepared, reach the village but still with 6k to the finish line, and another 200 metres of elevation. Bumped into Meg again, a friend I'd only ever known on social media. We'd finally met along Corn Hill, she was hiking having comeback from stress fractures last year. Skirting around the side of the village, one last time slogging up towards the Summit Nature Walk and I was feeling the strain in the back of the legs. Watched beeped, checked it, low battery. Bugger. I'd put on a brief charge last night thinking it would last, but no...

View from Buller Summit. Probably the best I'll ever see it!

Along the Summit Nature Walk, plenty of other walkers out and about (i.e., non-competitors) all making way for our passing. The summit comes into view, and it looks a long way up. Probably a trick of the perspective, because very soon we are climbing the final stone steps and at the stone marker for the trig point. There are books up here, the idea is that each solo runner or team, picks the page from the book corresponding to their race bib number. Because all runners have been diverted from the summit due to the storms, they all end up here in civvies picking the page out of the book! Not actually realising this at the time, I ask one team where they DNF'd. Reply: "We finished, just grabbing our page". There was no hole deep enough for me to sink to at that point!

Myself, Nick and Kez at Buller Summit. 3 k to go, and the job is done.

Grab a selfie with the crew, then head back down towards the village. The course returns back on the nature walk pretty much for 2k before peeling off to the top of Athletes Walk and the finish line. On the way back we catch up with the team of 2 we'd met on Corn Hill, they'd done the summit and were heading back. Both of them had run H2H before, as had Nick, and were swopping stories of years past. It made for a quick return, legs weary after nearly 17 hours on our legs.

Some people... Paul
Edwards finishes the Archie,
in style.

Pretty close to 11:00am we crossed the finish line, our job done (such as it was on the last day) with a handful of people standing around. For us, it was all over, for many they still had many hours today, and a similar time the following day to finish. Also on Saturday, The Archie was being run for the first time. We had enough time to get back to the lodge, shower, change, grab some money and get coffee, food and just relax for a bit. The afternoon spent cheering finishers in the Archie.

Saturday evening was party time waiting for the final runners to come in near 11:00pm.

Day 3, Cheer on the final finishers, be inspired

Hard to describe the scenes at an event like this watching people finish who have pushed themselves well and truly outside of their comfort zone. RD's Andy and Chris make a point of hugging every competitor over the line, and the emotions start to overflow very quickly. Standing next to a competitor, she turns to me to say, "Geez, I wish I could just get the crying over and done with. Rather than this constant sobbing for hours on end!". I knew how she felt.
I was worried about my friend Caz Donovan. A chat a week prior had uncovered her usual pre-race doubts. She'd seemed fine yesterday, but her team tracker had stopped at 4 Mile on the previous day, possibly meaning a DNF. It could also mean a faulty tracker. I didn't know and didn't want to pester the crews to find out. So very pleased when she and Rachel did their victory lap and finished, mid-morning. I could finally relax.

Caz and Rachel (obscured by Ordos meaty arm!) finishing.

And a massive congratulations to my trail running buddy and all-round awesome friend, Belle, for a 7th place in the Archie.

Celebrating as only she knows how, by mixing her drinks!

So next up for me is Duncans 50k, with Belle. We had our arses handed to us on a plate after last years 100k, this is a way to redeem without killing ourselves!

Until next time...

And they got those tears in their eyes
Well it makes no sense to me

Why don't they understand
We're so ordinary too

Midnight Oil - Brave Faces

If anyone is puzzling over the name of this post 😉