Pre-Race; Friday 4th February, Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, Canada

We have just completed the training course section of the YAU race; some technical input on trail conditions, weather, hypothermia and frostbite. That last one generated some scary photos…

Following a day in the classroom, we headed out on the frozen trails to the “Hidden Lake” (very picturesque, but not that well named given that Lee and I managed to find it) for the practical session. Course Director Shelley Gellatly (Yukon legend and all together very knowledgeable outdoor instructor) along with Race Director Robert Pollhammer assessed our competence using multi-fuel stoves, managing the conditions, preparing a wood fire and setting out our sleep system. We are hoping not to use that last item on the race, but you never know.

Using our Primus Omnifuel stoves, supplied by Outdoor Hire, on the training course.

In addition to those techniques, we also spent a period of time navigating and negotiating the trail without head torches, again just to ensure we were prepared for all possible scenarios.It was a useful course and I would recommend it to any first time cold-weather ultra competitors. It was also good to meet some great people from around the globe. Not surprisingly, we are all very similar people and language barriers and the fact that we will be racing against each other did not provide any obstacle to having a good laugh and noising each other up!

One highlight for me was nearly setting fire to my entire head when I over-fuelled my stove whilst priming it to light. Should make good telly for the German Company ZDF, who’s cameraman was filming it closely enough to get quite a fright himself.

Race Day – Sunday 6th February – Whitehorse River Start line

1030hrs, minus 17C and zero wind.

Perfect racing conditions for the 75 competitors that lined up for the start of the race.
We were at the start of the trail where less than 24 hours before 50 teams of dogs and mushers headed off for 1000 miles of Yukon Quest race. As such, we expected good solid compacted snow conditions under foot, regular and well-maintained trail markers along the route and more frozen husky crap than you can shake a stick at. Should be interesting.

As we headed off for the first leg of the race, Lee and I were pleased with our position within the pack; roughly mid-group with only the experienced, fast competitors ahead of us and the marathon runners (no pulks) right at the head of the field. Just as we were celebrating and patting ourselves on the back for this great result both pulks break within about 25 minutes of each other. This was frustrating as it caused us to drop out of the procession to effect temporary repairs (due to transportation problems there were no metal connectors to attach the harnesses to the rental pulks).Lesson learned: Cable ties (even heavy-duty ones) shatter in the cold. We nursed the pulks through to Rivendell Farm (CP1 – 24-25 Miles) by 1600hrs.

Moving along the Takhini River towards Checkpoint 1

It had been a relatively easy and fast leg as 95% of it was on the frozen river with only a very gradual climb and no real ups and downs. The hard part was finding any points to pass people as we caught them up again as the trail is very narrow with deep, soft snow and overflow (areas of water lying on the surface of  frozen lakes/streams etc but insulated and hidden by the snow lying above it) lurking either side of the main trail. We are back out of CP1 at 1635hrs complete with properly fixed pulks, two bowls of soup in our stomachs and 5 litres each of fresh, warm water in our various containers. This refill and repair session took about twenty minutes longer than we would have liked but we reminded ourselves there were still about 80 miles to go; therefore, getting our knickers in a twist about 20 minutes was a bit irrelevant.

Section 2 – Rivendell Farm to Dog Grave Lake (1635hrs Sunday to 0800hrs Monday).

We’ve got roughly 40 miles of up, down, up, down, up, down (you get the idea) to complete on this section of trail and 80% percent of it will be completed in the dark. As we moved off the river and onto the Trans-Canada Snowmobile trail (or so the sign stated) we realised we’d been spoiled a bit on the wide, level river section in the early part of the race.

Before we left the river, we managed to fit in a minor crisis: all the pulk fixing and associated admin had left Lee with a very, very cold hand and we needed to stow the poles temporarily (contact with metal, even through gloves, steals heat at a furious rate), get the over-mitts on and pack some heat pads into his gloves.

Lee's pointy left finger

Meanwhile, obviously feeling left-out of this particular drama I decided to step off the trail to let some mushers through (you need to get out of the way of the dog sleds because the dogs won’t stop) and promptly passed straight through the soft snow and up to my ankle in overflow. That’s better, now we’re both in the shit. I weakly blamed my situation on a lack of poles to pre-check the area but really it’s a stark reminder from our environment just who is in charge here.

As soon as it happened I used fresh snow to absorb as much of the surface water from my leg and shoe as possible and (I’m pleased to report) a combination of Sealskinz socks (excellent, genuinely!), Goretex trainers and Rab gaiters mean that not a drop of water made it through to my foot. Lucky really, as I do not think I would suit a limp.

Some of the stunning scenery we raced through (photo courtesy of Peter Mild)

As darkness fell the temperature continued to drop and we took the decision to bivvy for a few hours around midnight in our excellent Hunka XL bivvies. This was not exactly a relaxing cosy experience (reported temperature for the night was below minus 40C) with our sleeping bags perched right out at the limits of their extreme temperature ratings but it did help us recharge enough to push on through for the Dog Grave Lake checkpoint, coming in at 0800hrs on Monday morning.

Section 3 –Dog Grave Lake to Braeburn Lodge (1010hrs to 2150hrs Monday 7th Feb).

It was our intention to only stay in this checkpoint for an hour (or maybe 90 minutes at the most!) however a combination of factors conspired to keep us there a good bit longer.  The Dog Grave Lake checkpoint is beautifully sited and arriving there at first light was about as close to a spiritual experience this apathetic atheist has ever had! It consisted of a roaring fire outside and a walled tent complete with log burner who’s chimney was spewing warm smoke and steam out through a vent in the side of the temporary haven. Warmth, food and hot water: The Holy trinity of cold-weather ultra’s!

Once inside, we discovered at least half a dozen other athletes, making the space rather cramped and the availability of boiling water and ready-food pretty much non-existent initially. We took the opportunity to carry out some admin on the pulk bags (we left the bivvy in a bit of a hurry) and it was my intention to call home using the satellite phone. It quickly became apparent that this was not going to happen as the extreme cold during the night had frozen both the batteries. Lesson learned: keep your batteries in your pants.

The checkpoint was manned (or lady-ied) by Diane Patrick, a UK Paramedic , race veteran and all-together good person to meet when you are cold, tired and more than a bit hungry. She looked after us very well and provided chocolate brownies. Can you ask for anything more? We also met Marianne Heading (who went on to be the first female 300 mile athlete, tip of the hat) and Pat Cooke-Rogers, another British Female 300er and one we were very glad to see into the checkpoint. When we’d passed her around 15K earlier, she had been struggling with Asthma in the extreme cold of the night so she has put in a sterling effort to get into Dog Grave Lake. However, good company and sound advice from Marianne aside, it’s easy to relax too long in a checkpoint and it’s important to focus on all the effort you’ve put in so far and how long you’ve still got to go to finish. We gathered up some warm (definitely not boiling, unfortunately) water for our packs and flasks and kitted-up to head out. I fired in a couple of hot-packs with my Camelbak in a vain attempt to stop it cooling and freezing before the day was out (finding out later that this hadn’t been overly successful).

A quick summary of the next 40 miles looks like this: 7 hours of solid trail bashing (punctuated only by a five minute stop for Lee to dress a MASSIVE blister on his heel) takes us through to teatime when we stop for two pouches of dried food poorly re-hydrated by the tepid water in my flask. Four and a half more hours of going as fast as we can sees us approaching Braeburn Lodge (finish line) at about 2150hrs. In the last four hours we saw darkness fall, passed five other racers, saw temperatures drop to minus 40 C again and we had both started to hallucinate (just a little bit) through lack of sleep and pushing pretty hard.  All good fun.

The finish line, the morning after, with other racer's pulks.

Reaching the finish line at Braeburn was an odd experience (good-odd). There was no fanfare, it’s a cafe and truck stop on a very icy road and it’s about 30 degrees inside it due to the presence of a roaring log burner and proper heating! All of this (along with the spectacular cafe menu including burgers the size of your head (which we had) and Danish Pastries that are a 2-man lift) feels quite incongruous to the surroundings and the 103 miles of trail that preceded it! We were both delighted however, and very relieved to be coming in 6th equal (with each other) overall in the 100 Mile foot event and the first Brits home in the category. I cannot recommend the event highly enough or praise the locals, staff and volunteers you meet; they absolutely make the event what it is and offer a level of genuine and generous hospitality that I have experienced in no other country in the world.

Garry and Lee at the finish line: 6th overall but first Brits home

** As a footnote, Lee did get a laugh in Braeburn, as the switch from minus 35C outside to plus 30C inside played havoc with my bloodflow and tiny brain resulting in me needing to lie on the floor for five minutes after we stopped. I could only be raised from my self-imposed slumber in order to sit up at the table to eat my massive burger with everything on it. Lovely.

Garry Mac