(Go west) where the skies are blue
(Go west) this is what we're gonna do
(Go west, this is what we're gonna do, go west)
Go West - Pet Shop Boys
Sometime in 2017, Margaret River Ultra popped its head up like an adolescent meerkat. At first, I discarded it with the classic east coast thoughts of too far away, too costly etc. All the time paying airfares, accommodation and so forth for Tarawera (NZ).
Then, I won a free entry (to it and to Surf Coast Century). Excited, yes, but it was with a restrained air of someone who was understanding of budgets, time off work etc. etc., whilst still in the process of paying for my time in Tarawera (See where this is going?)
Several well-meaning and lovely friends (henceforth known as 'enablers') also expressed a desire to 'Go West'. Group chats, messages, "If we get a group it will be cheaper", all were designed to 'enable' me to take the plunge. I had a free ticket, I thought "Why not just enter. It's free. If you don't make the journey to WA, no problems, nothing lost at all". Informed my wife that I'd entered, giving her the previous reasons of free/nothing lost/it's just an entry.... She favoured me with one of those spousal looks that conveys everything, and nothing.
And then finally the hammer blow of the Qantas Boxing Day sale, and the realisation of just how cheap you can head to the sunny blue and gold expanse of our western state. Margaret River Ultra, here I come!
Wednesday 2nd May
The real start of the story is here. Tegz Angel, Vfuel Aus supremo had asked on our group chat if he could get some banners sent to a business (rather than residential premises) as they were late leaving printers in Sydney. Cheryl had apparently volunteered me. Don't remember that, must have been very subtle. They duly arrived at 1:00pm, in a large box for me to carry back home on the train. Next trick was to pack them all in. They'd been nicely rolled but were too long to put in any of my suitcases. Another suitcase grabbed from the stash, and I carefully folded them, taking care not to have tight creases etc., and packed other loose light items around to avoid them moving around. It was going to be an extra $35 dollars for the extra bag, I didn't mind and would deal with costs with Tegz in WA.Finally around 10pm I was satisfied I'd packed everything in my bags. Too late if I'd forgotten anything.
Thursday 3rd May
Early start, walk the dog, breakfast then catch my normal train to Melbourne but getting off at Pakenham. Dan and Fiona drive me to the airport, an earlyish start to make sure The Monash Freeway doesn't stall us. On the way in try to check extra luggage in, too late. Need to do it at the airport, where no doubt it will cost extra and take longer to do. We decide to grab all the banners and stuff them in Dans oversized sausage bag. All the extra stuff then gets rammed into my bulging suitcase! |
| On the plane on the way over to Perth. |
Friday 4th May
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| The house crew: Tegz, Fiona, Dan, me, Chris, Cheryl and Kellie. Photo credit: Cheryl Martin. |
In the afternoon we go down for race registration, gear bag drop and dinner of pizza and a pint of local beer at the Cheeky Monkey Brewery. Meet up with lots of friends, VUR's etc. A fair bit of banter, nervous laughter, but we are all in good spirits.
Back home, prep for the morning and off to bed for the standard piss-poor pre-race sleep.
Saturday 5th May, race day
The alarm was meant to go off at 4:50. But at 4:45 the race tracker beeps on mine and Chris's phones to remind us of the race. Like we actually needed that? I stagger out of bed, stumble around and get changed. Breakfast is homemade Museli, Berocca, toast and a strong hot coffee. Everyone else is up, even those running relay legs later in the day. We pile into 2 of the hire cars and head for Hamelin Bay (along with a load of other runners by the looks of the car convey on the road). I'm slightly nervous, a bit wired you might say. Not able to concentrate on anything other than thinking about the run ahead of me. I'm not fazed by the distance, I've done the training, done the prep, but you never know what can go wrong on the day. |
| Cheryl and I minutes before the start. Cheryl is an 'enabler' for some of my running exploits! Photo credit: Cheryl Martin. |
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| Milling around before the start. |
Started the tracker o my phone, then moved into position with 5 minutes to go. And by now the nerves are really starting to kick in. Just want to get going and get it done. Cheryl, grabs Chris, Dan and I into a group hug to thank us for our friendship, and wish us well on the trail. Emotions go through the roof, I try hard not to shed a tear. (Would have explained it as high pollen count, WA being famed for its wildflowers…)
Hamelin Bay (Start) to Boranup Campground (CP1)
3, 2, 1 and go. We head along the sand, up the short jetty and through the carpark towards our first section of trail. Finally off running, we are able to relax and ease into our pace. Chris Langmead is with me, we have agreed to run together for his first leg. There are many runners around us, chatting, a bit of banter, even a bawdy joke as we approached the 1k mark! (The punch line was worth the wait). Some of the banter is with fellow VUR's Chris Wright and Shaun Moore, discussing what we've ordered for food at checkpoint 1. Very soon we start climbing up a rough section of trail. My first walk, need to conserve the energy early on.Leg 1 is a mixture of road (bitumen), trail, rough track with some constant climbing. Eventually, after running through a section with lots of low growing shrubs, we came out to a vista of sweeping land with the sun still low in the sky. Conditions couldn't have been better. On the climb up I have left Chris L behind, but that was ok. Before that, I would periodically check back on him. He was doing brilliantly, on the comeback after 2 years and it was for me the perfect start to the day.
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| Course deviated around the top of a sand mine. Our first taste of sand for the day. Not the last. |
At the 9k mark, we came across the first sand of the day. This was a late change to our course as it ran through a private property, a sand mine no less. Stop for a photo, climb up the sandy road, then bomb down the other side. A quick check of my watch, right on schedule to do 1:20 for the first leg. Back into the bush again on some downhill single trail then we can hear the PA at CP1.
Boranup Campground (CP1) to Contos Campground (CP2)
Leg 2 was touted as the best leg, and it didn't disappoint with firm, formed tracks through the forest. I caught up to Chris Wright again, running with his client Matthew and runner #2 Magda. Ran with them for a while before I pulled away. The plan through here was to run very conservatively, save it all for leg 3 where the 4k of beach was. But the running here was too good to just loiter.13k mark a girl in front of me trips, hits the deck then bobs up like a demented jack-in-the-box to prove she's just fine, thank you very much! I caught up with her later and we have a chat, she is actually fine, just a tad embarrassed. 15k mark I trip, hit the deck, try to roll over elegantly (and sort of succeeding) and run on. No damage, although a few days later my left knee is sore and stiff.
By now we are starting to thin out. Relay runners come past at pace, but there are still little groups of solo runners travelling through the forest.
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| It doesn't get much better than this. In the Kauri forests of the south-west of WA. |
Came out on a road where the Kauri forest is dense and tall. It is breathtaking, and I slow down to take it all in. Easy to take it for granted that these places still exist in Australia, and I was privileged to be able to be here and experience it. Around the 22k mark, the trail descended gently towards Contos. I stopped for a gel and water. The sun was climbing in the sky, but we were still protected by the canopy. I was worrying what it would be like when we hit leg 3 and the exposed sections. 27K mark the trail hit Contos campground, and then abruptly turned right and headed uphill to CP2. This was the only 2-way section on the course and you get to see faster runners speeding downhill as you walk up. Quite a few runners giving us encouragement as we climbed, made a note to myself to do the same when I descended.
3 hour 22 mark I crossed the timing pad and entered the transition area. I wasn't really sure what to expect here. Knew I hadn't made plans to see Chris or anyone else here, so I stopped, gathered my thoughts and then headed towards the food table. Michelle Edwards, the 3rd runner in Chris's team immediately jumped through the fence and came in to see if I needed anything. I'd only just met Michelle the day before, and was a bit taken aback, but accepted her help all the same. She filled up my soft flasks (both, this was a long leg and potentially slow with the sand) and my water bladder. I grabbed some oat slice, savoury shapes (oh that salty MSG goodness!) and a few bits n pieces before heading back out.
Contos Campground (CP2) to White Elephant Cafe (CP3)
On the way down I did indeed repay the encouragement to those climbing up. Saw Chris Wright, Magda and Matthew as they climbed up. Chris ran over for a hi 10, I obliged but later on thought that could have gone terribly wrong (think potential headbutt, carnage… 😂). As I got to the bottom of the hill another runner in a VUR shirt was turning up towards CP2. We spied each other and started chanting; VUR, VUR, VUR… Probably annoyed the shit out of everyone else, but we had a good laugh as we crossed paths. |
| The climb out from CP2, and the first heat of the day hits as there is little shade. |
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| Others stopped to take a photo of the stunning backdrop to leg 3. |
Off the rocks, onto a sandy, dusty road past the carpark on Redgate Road and then back onto the trail. We dip down then climb back up to the headland. Outstanding views of the beach below as the waves gently roll in from the Indian Ocean. This is a mostly coastal trail, short shrubby plants, prickly and growing partially over the trail. This is also the start of the limestone coast, and bits of limestone poke out of the ground, trip hazards and ankle turners! About the 36k mark, the trail stops climbing and start becoming gradually downhill. I say gradually, it goes up and down, but the downs become longer if that makes sense. Past some limestone caves, travelling in a line of 6 people, 4 of us have or are still living in Tasmania. We chat about our experiences there, laughing at the 6 degrees of separation as some of us knew mutual friends.
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| Once we climbed, we were treated to some outstanding views. |
By now it is warm, but thankfully not hot. I'm drinking water and electrolyte regularly and having gels and part of a cliff bar every 40 or so minutes to keep energy up. Michelle has got ahead of me a bit, but I can still see her up ahead. We climb a steep rocky section, steel chain on the side for assistance and then one final trail through the bush before we came across the first real sand of the day (leg 1 sand mine being a whimpering pathetic excuse). I knew what was coming, 4k of soft sand, but still my mind was wondering how I was going to go along here. As I descended to the beach I could see people in front of me clearly walking, that wasn't very encouraging…
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| Start of the 4k beach section. Coming down from the trails where the limestone cliffs were. |
Hit the beach and walked. Sand was soft and spongy, all the way down to the tide line where a gentle swell was lapping the beach. I consoled myself, it was a beautiful day, surfers were out in the waves, family groups were lying on the sand or playing. It was an idyllic spot. So what if I had to walk the next 4k to Prevelly? But, it was tough going. I remembered Kellie Emmerson's tips on sand running (small steps, lean forward, minimise ground contact time etc…). Every time I started to run the HR just told me what a stoopid idea that was, so I walked. But I did so purposefully, striding along in the footsteps of runners before me. One girl ahead of me (a relay runner) decided that the run till ya drop, walk till recovered approach was for her. I kept pace with her for over 3k, each to their own I suppose. I knew I was still doing ok, passed a number of others along here. Indeed, later on, looking at results I'd pulled back 20 places in the general classification.
But along here I started to wonder if I'd misjudged the distance. We had been going for a long time but my watch still only recorded about 45k, still another 3 till CP3. You're shitting me. Michelle still ahead, I couldn't catch her along here. We exited the beach (hallelujah!!) and ran along a road and paved path section, and then yep, you guessed it, hit the beach again. Only short, then around a headland, up a path then bugger me if White Elephant Cafe was right there in front of me. A short run down to the front of the cafe, Chez there greeting me, holding up her hand to point me in the right direction across the beach at the front of the cafe and up the other set of steps. I'd noticed a bandage on her arm, and dark brown spots under her chin and neck, but my mind didn't seem to register any understanding of what that meant. Hell, my mind didn't even register at that point why she was standing there directing me when she should have been at least 4 to 5k ahead of me. Then again, 48k mark of an 80k ultra, my brain was somewhere behind me towards Contos.
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| Somewhere along the beach section before Prevelly. It looks picturesque. It was, just a bloody slog to get through it. |
Hit the transition area. Chris, Chez and Michelle all there. I'm asked a barrage of questions (Are you alright, what do you need etc. etc.) and they get me sorted. Chez filled me in on the bandage, a stack on the trail, lots of blood and a potential stitching job on the cut. The dark patches being dried blood. I was feeling the need for Coke, of the liquid variety but couldn't see any on the tables. I was also craving potatoes but settled on some couscous salad instead (Melbourne hipsters jokes aplenty over that). Refilled bottles, bladder again, emptied out my shoes thinking how very happy I was to be off the sand. Michelle grabbed me a sandwich, but it was Vegemite so I knocked it back, but she offered me her VFuel gels in return (win/win). After about 7 or 8 minutes I headed out again. Happy to spend time at aid stations if it helps me reset.
White Elephant Cafe (CP3) to Ellensbrook Homestead (CP4)
This was the path we'd run in training yesterday, so I knew what was on offer for the next couple of k's. Nearly trod on a blue tongue lizard sunning itself on the path, nearly shit myself when I thought it was a snake… |
| Art installation too much for some, modesty bikini sprayed on! |
Through some carparks at the mouth of the Margaret River, onto another stretch of beach and walk across it spying the cameraman at the other end. Honestly couldn't be stuffed running. Consequently, there are multiple shots of me walking in the sand, wry smile plastered on the gob. Over another headland, sandy trail underfoot making it hard to run, and then back down on to another section of beach. Really not loving the soft stuff now… Met up with a Brisbane based runner, who knew of me through mutual friends. Jaimi and I both bitching about the sand, and about how our target times had long since gone out the window and that we'd stopped even projecting a finish time, other than under cutoff. Finally off the beach, but the trail is sandy and soft. We wind our way through coastal heathland and scrub, climbing up slowly to the last highpoint before we descend to Ellensbrook Homestead and CP4.
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| Cliffs with orange lichen, on yet another beach section! |
Jaimi pushed on as I stopped to take in a gel, and a few other runners caught up with me. 55K's in and by now I'm admitting that my legs are starting to suffer, but mentally I'm still very positive. The main thing was not having any more sand to deal with. Hadn't prepared for so much sand, and it was really getting to me. Caught up with another Brisbane runner and we both descend towards CP4 together. Cross a creek that runs out from some rocks, clear pools of water running under the bridge and then seemingly the worlds longest paved path on a trail using domestic paving bricks (Guinness Book of Records candidate). It ran almost 600 metres before rounding a corner and there was CP4.
I was pretty glad to get there, it was getting on in the afternoon and I was worried about the next leg to the finish. Arrived at CP4 to be greeted by Chris, Fiona who'd just finished her leg from White Elephant, and Michelle my compatriot from leg 3. Chris had my drop bag, I grabbed gels and cliff bar and then searched in vain on the tables for a Coke. Red Bull by the truckload, Vfuel Gels and drink, but no Coke… Finally got my long awaited potatoes, and then had some Minestrone soup, the noodles and most vegetables removed. It was great having the 3 of them there helping me out. I was in reasonable shape, but my brain was slowly losing its pizzazz and it was taking me a bit to process thoughts and actions. Not a great place to be. Finally, I feel I'm ready to push on.
Ellensbrook Homestead (CP4) to Cheeky Monkey Brewery (Finish)
Walked out of the transition area, eating some food and getting the legs moving again after standing around. Noticed my left knee was sore, a result of the fall 47k and about 6 ½ hours ago. Skirted the carpark and back onto trail again as we went through the grassy dunes and back towards the beach (again 😞). I was beyond worrying about the sand, it was the same for all of us, just keep moving and get it done.By now I know that my watch is completely inaccurate in its distance measurement. By how much? 3 to 4 k by my estimation, but trying to work out how short I would be by finish was out of my current abilities. I just continued on, the song playing at CP4 when I went through now on a continuous loop in my brain. Really don't need that shit at this point. I can feel tight spots in my hammy, behind my knee and in my left calf. The prospect of negative thoughts starts to be entertained. So far no cramps, and no real issues apart from the knee that stiffens when I stop. Note to self; don't stop until the finish.
I turn my mind to the task ahead. The last leg is 18k, a mixture of trail types, sandy, well-formed, a rocky scramble in one section and an uphill finish on a gravel road. Right now I'm back on the sand, a short beach section then sandy trails. The cloud cover that was high and very thin around lunchtime is now thicker, lower and there are dark clouds way out over the sea towards the west. A cold front is forecast to hit later tonight, and it doesn't look great. Light is also starting to fade, although plenty to see where I'm running.
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| Light fades as I'm still on the Cape to Cape track. Behind me the clouds looked thick and dark grey as a cold front approached out of the south-west. |
In a few places along here the trail markings are indistinct or a long way apart. As I approached one section a woman in front of me has stopped and is scanning left and right for another marker. I join her in searching, and eventually see one way in the distance, draped over a rock. We run together for a bit as she is a bit unsure of her navigation through her. I have the course on my watch, it's isn't great at a fine coarse level, but will alert me if I go way off course.
A small climb, a short section of trail where it was dark in the melaleucas and then another rock climb up to the top of a headland, waves crashing into a massive boulder in the bay, a 'BOOM' every time a wave crashed in. The climb up is not too bad, but I would have hated to do this in the dark. More trail along the headland, still part of the Cape to Cape walking trail. The light now getting a little dim, the last of the suns rays had disappeared over the horizon a while ago, and I realised that I wasn't going to get to the finish before it was dark. I'd harboured a small chance that I could make it but now realised that was not going to be the case. And it was in the knowledge that I didn't have a head torch…
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| Team VFuel 1, Dan, Tegz and Kellie (relay team order) picking up their winnings. |
It's along this section that I pull out the phone, fire up the flashlight app and check for trail markers. I know at some stage we divert into a property with vines, but in the dark, it's hard to see anything. I message my crew to let them know what is going on. They reply and I realise I have no reading glasses, so message back (I can type blind, as I know the keyboard layout by rote, but can't read. Yep, cock-up!) to get them to call me. Cheryl calls, her first sentence “What the f#@% are you doing out there without a head torch?” delivered in that Glaswegian accent of hers… I mumble an explanation, feeling much like a naughty school kid, hauled up before the headmistress. My concern is either I run over the line without a torch (DNF), or my crew gets caught giving me one (DNF). The result, I'm screwed either way unless I can get a torch on course. Her next statement is “Where the hell are you?” Which was a surprise. Whilst I didn't expect everybody to be glued 24/7 to the tracker, I thought at least most would have some clue as to where I was (Later on found out the tracker hadn't worked all day for me. Almost like I'd never turned it on.)
No sooner had I got off the phone to Chez, and I heard the PA from the finish line faintly through the trees. What a great feeling that is, and I picked my pace up knowing the end was close. As the road flattened out (no more climbing), a marker up ahead reflected in the light and then I saw an arrow pointing left, into the paddock. I could see the glow of lights from the finish area to my left, the PA now much louder and I could pick out words, hear other runners as they crossed the line. Got to the arrow and realised I had to hurdle a wire fence. Even with my leg length, it was a stretch. For others, this must have been the final straw!
Run through the vines, friend Fiona has run out to check on me and runs back with me for about a kilometre. Such a small gesture, but was very lovely having her just sit off my shoulder as we ran back, chatting a bit, but mainly just having a friendly physical presence next to me in the dark. We ran alongside Caves Road, Fiona stopped and let me run on as she ran back and alerted my crew that I was coming in. One small climb as we approached the point where we cross the road and then run back down to the finish. There is a runner ahead of me, and another runner has just caught me. We cross the road, I nearly trip on one of the runners' heels as we jostle for position, then turn right and head for the finish line.
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| Not much elevation to speak of, but it doesn't convey the nature of the terrain, the sand, and sections of trail littered with limestone. And that distance is so wrong! |
The Finish
There is a sea of light, PA is pumping out tunes, and commentators are calling runners in. The 3 of us pick up the pace, cross a grass area with cars parked then approach the finish chute. One final ditch to hurdle then we barrel down the finish chute. I spy all my housemates at the end, phones out taking photos as I finished with my arms held aloft in celebration. Cross the line, stop running, stop the watch and then think to myself, “Thank fuck that's over!” I was utterly exhausted but extremely pleased to have got through. I find it hard to describe the finish line emotions. Always raw and honest, these emotions sometimes threaten to erupt in tears, hugs to random strangers etc. But tonight it was just satisfaction. I'd missed my time goal by over an hour, but on that course, I'd take that any day. And the watch registered 73k's. I felt more than a little ripped off with that. No fault of race organisers, my watch just recording at 60-second intervals misses vital details on twisty tracks. |
| And finished. Without weighing myself, but looking at this photo, reckon I shed about 4kg during the race. Photo credit: Tegz Angel. |
Kellie and Tegz drive me home, seat pushed way back to stop my hip flexors from cramping. I must have smelt like a wild animal, both of them too polite to comment!
Back at the house, I wasn't allowed to drink alcohol until I'd downed an electrolyte drink, sick to death of electrolytes I managed it anyway. Alcohol warrants sacrifices!
Sunday 6th May
Drink, eat, drink, eat again, yoga, drink eat....The Washup
I was asked afterwards if I'd trained on any sand. I said yes, but not really 'trained' for this. There was far more than I expected, and it made it far tougher than I was anticipating.I was also asked if I'd do it again. Still considering this one!
What else did I learn?
- My use of electrolytes and gels is working. Just enough to fuel, not too much to make me sick.
- Still unsure that I am eating enough solid food, and early on. I need to try some different foods in training.
- Training regime is working. By using the ultras I've done as the 'long' component, and using other activities to hone speed and build endurance through constant running, I have struck a good balance for my lifestyle, work and family activities.
- A crew was vital. Before this race, I had not really thought crew much better than at least seeing a friendly face at a checkpoint. They are more than the sum of their abilities and my needs. I had previously thought I would do SCC100 without a crew. Not now. (And yep, positions available if anyone is interested!)
- Better care needs to be made when organising gear drop bags! (Maybe #4 could help with that? 😀)
- The maxim that an ultra is more mental than physical I can now truly appreciate. Long after the body started to give way, the mind kept me going.
- I couldn't do these without the help of some close friends, and my wife Nicky who allows me the luxury and freedom to get runs in on weekends.
- If Coke is not mentioned in the race notes as being at checkpoints, bring your own!
- Distances to finish by spectators are now in units of parkrun. Since when did this happen?
- No matter which event I'm in, I always come across someone who knows me or knows of me, yet I am completely clueless as to who they are. Apologies if you are reading this, and it was you...
Until next time...
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