I have been fortunate enough to have visited many beautiful parts of the world. Two of my favorites are the Arctic and the Antarctic, which will surprise no one who knows me. I can happily add the San Juans to that select list. These are wildly rugged mountains towering 14,000 feet into the sky. It is as if the spinal column of the continent has been bent on itself in such a manner to produce an unparalleled beauty. Its weather can be highly unpredictable. Sunshine can be followed by lightning, sleet, snow and sunshine again all within a 5 to 10 minute time span, an experience I encountered on more than one occasion.

But for the greed of man few but the most determined hikers and climbers would have access to this region. Back in the 1870s silver and gold were discovered in these mountains. The subsequent rushes led to the opening of numerous mining towns and hundreds of mines scattered throughout the mountain range. Most of those towns have become ghost towns and all of the mines have long since been abandoned. Silverton is one of the few towns to have survived. Evidence of the mining fever and man’s greed for fast fortunes can be found everywhere. Mines were dug thousands of feet above the valley floors, miners suffered incredible hardships surviving through the winter months threatened constantly by blizzards, cold and avalanches. Very few got rich.

Their greed also opened up the San Juans to us today. The trails that have survived were often blasted out of sheer cliff faces. Some of them are now accessible to 4 wheel drive traffic. The town of Silverton has evolved from a mining town to a tourist town retaining the flavor of its roots unlike the glitzy town of Telluride just 20 miles to the west. Silverton is also the home of the Hardrock 100 mile run.

The 2000 year edition was the 8^th race of the Hardrock. The 1995 edition was cancelled due to heavy snow conditions. In the space of less than 10 years Hardrock has come to be recognized as one of the very toughest ultras to run. The race organizers take pride of this recognition and have over the years toughened the course and no doubt would like to toughen it further. 33,000 feet of climb over 12 passes higher than 12,000 feet are the base facts the runners face. The tallest climb is over Handies which at 14,048 feet is one of the 54 "14" peaks of Colorado. The run follows routes laid out by the miners and is dedicated to their memory.

The manual you receive on admittance is intimidating to the first time runner. You are reminded "this is a dangerous course! In addition to trail running, you will do some mild rock climbing (hands required), wade ice cold streams, struggle through snow which at night and in the early morning will be rock hard and slick and during the day so soft you can sink to your knees and above, cross cliffs where a fall could send you 300 feet straight down, and use fixed ropes as handrails. Much of the time you will have wet feet. Feel free to include any specialized equipment such as ice axes or crampons which you are willing to carry between drop bag stations as part of your paraphernalia".

The manual is accompanied by a large map of the San Juan Mountain area. Twelve pages of close type are required to describe the route in detail. Distances between each section of the course and altitude changes are all clearly marked. The actual altitude range of the course lies between 7,680 and 14,048 feet with an average overall altitude of just over 11,000 feet. The course description liberally refers to acrophobia, exposure, glissades and hanging walls to describe its layout.
(elevation profile)

A Hardrock training T-shirt is also included in the package. It is a traditional part of ultras to be given a T-shirt upon arrival at the event but I had never encountered a T-shirt to train for a specific run. Curiously enough I found this to be a morale booster. It focused my mind on the challenge to come and I always found myself to be training to my maximum when I wore it!

So why did I want to run the Hardrock? Or to put it more generally in the vernacular of my non-running acquaintances, why do I run ultras in the first place? Not easy questions to answer and certainly not easy to summarize in a few words. First of all most North American ultras and certainly all the trail runs are located in spectacular or beautiful country areas. Second, the sport itself is low profile. It does not attract media attention. Individuals may be competitive but it is not a sport that attracts the egotistical type. Runners will help fellow runners. This is particularly true of the tougher courses like Hardrock where most of the runners are competing more against the course than against each other. As the ultra community is relatively small, runners get to know one another over the years and so events are as much reunions of old friendships. Hardrock has developed a core of runners who return year after year some of whom have attempted it several times before finally completing the course. A finishing rate of close to 50% has not acted as a deterrent to them. The fact that the finishing times are almost twice that of almost every other 100 mile ultra is also no deterrent.

From a personal viewpoint, Hardrock has been on my "list" for a number of years. The year 2000 seemed as good a time as any to attempt it. I am no spring chicken either (for the record there were three 60+ starters this year and they all finished). It represented an irresistible challenge as the toughest 100 miler I would ever attempt. While there are a couple of others that make the claim of being as tougher or tougher to complete (ie the Barkley and Badwater), neither holds any interest for me. Hardrock represented to me the ultimate ultra challenge, the "graduation" run so to speak.

Once I had been accepted I became totally focused on ensuring I would finish. A DNF was unacceptable. I was not particularly concerned with my time and time was not an issue. The cutoff time is 48 hours meaning one has only to average 2.2 mph to complete the course (the course record works out at an average of 3.44 mph!). So speed was not an issue. Endurance, management of the steep climbs and descents and mental attitude are paramount. The former and latter were issues I could work on but as a flatlander I had little opportunity to work on climbs and descents before traveling out to Colorado.

My plan was to train at a higher than normal intensity level throughout the winter months, run a 50 miler in February followed by the 100 miler at Massanutten, Virginia in May. I normally go into May relatively unconditioned because of the Canadian winter weather conditions and my workload during that time. I wanted to be race fit by mid-May. Things did not turn out that way. Fooling around at the swimming pool on New Years Eve resulted in a swollen knee that would not heal. The 50 miler became a marathon because of a freak two foot snowfall and anyway I could not have managed any further distance. The knee problem persisted into March. Finally, after reading David Horton’s book on his Appalachian and Trans-America runs and how he "ran through" injuries I decided nothing was to be lost. I resumed a full training program with heavy icing and four weeks later the problem had gone away. This is not what most doctors would approve of but I am quite convinced our knowledge and treatment of sports injuries remains somewhat limited. Rest is not the only cure for many injuries.

The Massanutten run was a slow affair but I finished. Promoted as the toughest east of the Rockies this was my third run there. Massanutten is basically a long mountain with continuous climbs and descents of up to 2,000 feet. It helped as a conditioner for the Hardrock climbs, which together with the very rough footing, made for an excellent confidence builder.

By mid-June the weekly mileage was finally getting up to 80 miles a week. A week later I put in an estimated 110 miles at Cap Cod some 25% of which was on the soft sandy beaches. I knew I was fit enough at last!

Most races you travel the day before, run the race and return home immediately afterwards. Not for Hardrock unless you are one of those few people who live at an elevation of 10,000 feet or higher. You have to condition your body to altitude. The requisite amount of time is open to discussion but the general consensus seems to be about two weeks. The run was to be held July 7 and 8 so I elected to travel out 11 days before. In retrospect I would say I cut the corner too fine and would have benefited from an additional 3-4 days to acclimatize. People often suffer from altitude sickness above 12,000 feet and inertia is another problem. I personally managed to avoid both these conditions but was surprised to find altitude can change the shape of the retina making contact lenses impossible to wear for more than a few hours at a time. Consequently I had to wear glasses and this made seeing difficult on the second night of the run when it rained.

Driving across the open New Mexico desert the San Juans rose magnificently above the horizon from 60 miles away. Climbing up the steep highway passes to Silverton made my little rental 4-cylinder car howl like a banshee. Folks in this part of Colorado do not believe guard rails are necessary which provides spectacular views of the drop offs only feet from the edge of the road. Finally Silverton came into view like a small speck in the valley below.

The town came as a pleasant surprise to me. I had not known what to expect. Little more than three streets and 20 blocks long, it has retained its roots as an old mining town both in its appearance and its community spirit. The streets are wide. A majority of the buildings have retained their original exterior appearance. Many of them are over 100 years old. Furthermore for a small town of a few hundred residents it boasts fine buildings for its city hall, courthouse and library. An excellent museum tells of the town’s history and a couple of miles up the road two former mines and mills have been converted into tourist attractions. The old narrow gauge railway connecting Silverton to Durango 50 miles away still operates its original steam engines daily. Towering mountains surround the town on all its sides.

I had found the bed and breakfast I was to stay at on the internet and was delighted to find the Dallavalle Inn (dallavalle@webTV.net) operated by Gerald and Nancy Swanson to be a recreation of Silverton’s past. Its period furnishings reflected its Victorian history and the owners are proud to treat their guests as if the inn was their own home. I particularly enjoyed the decanter of wine waiting after hiking in the mountains all day.

The best way to acclimatize to the altitude is to participate in the marking of the course. This also provides an ideal method to acquire knowledge of the trails from two of the race organizers Charlie Thorn and John Cappis. John is credited with being the architect of the course lay out which starts and ends in Silverton. The work involved in marking is minimal since it involves little more than carrying a bundle of course markers. These are metal flags with a reflective material to catch the beam of a flashlight at night and a red ribbon to see the markers by day.

Their visibility by day can be questionable for two reasons. The red ribbon is sometimes difficult to see on the high alpine pastures where wild flowers grow profusely. This past winter the snowfall had been less than normal and with a warm spring the colors and volumes of wild flower were quite amazing. Secondly the wildlife, namely marmots and elk, also find the ribbons to be very tasty to their palates. After chewing on the ribbon the markers may be stomped flat on the ground.

Marmots indulge in a passion that can be totally frustrating to persons who park their vehicles out in the wilderness. They love the taste of rubber. They will eat hoses and electrical leads on vehicles to the point where the vehicle may be totally disabled. One runner left a pair of boots on a trail while he climbed a nearby mountain. He returned an hour later to find most of one boot in shreds. I was witness as to the tenacity of one of these creatures. Arriving at Charlie Thorn’s house to find out about the marking schedule, a cat-sized furry creature suddenly emerged from the engine compartment of Rollin Perry’s camper. Rollin, one of Hardrock’s veterans with 5 finishes to his credit (after this year) had returned to his camper after a mountain hike with his dog Busker. Busker’s greatest dream in his life is to catch a marmot. This particular marmot had decided Rollin’s camper was the perfect meal when Rollin and Busker happened to return. The marmot wedged himself in the engine compartment in such a manner as to be impossible to remove all the while chirping at a high speed as marmots do when danger is close at hand. Busker was going nuts but was also unable to reach the marmot.

Finally Rollin gave up and drove the couple of miles back to Silverton all the while with the marmot hanging onto the engine and Busker less than three feet away in the passenger compartment howling and barking for all he was worth. Arriving at Charlie’s house, Rollin decided to remove this critter once and for all when the marmot also decided enough was enough and made his escape before Busker realized exactly was happening.

I spent the next seven days hiking over almost all the trail and wilderness sections of the course. Some ten to fifteen of us would leave around seven in the morning to mark a specific section of the course. We would return late in the afternoon. To reach the start point often involved taking 4 wheel drive vehicles over steep mountain passes providing spectacular views of the mountains. In Colorado the tree line lies somewhere about 11,500 feet. Above that for another 1,500 feet are lush alpine meadows covered in grasses and wild flowers. Most years a lot of this meadow still lies under snow in early July but not this year. The amount of snow coverage was minimal which in most cases makes running on the course easier though it can slow descent on down hills as glissading is very much faster. Above 13,000 feet the terrain is very Arctic. There is little vegetation and flowers that are to be found lie close to the ground like in the Arctic and the lichens on the rocks are just as colorful.

I used this time to take photographs and to enjoy viewing the magnificent scenery. I walked all the uphills and most of what little horizontal surface there is. Most of the downhills I ran to strengthen my quads. After the first couple of days my quads were protesting but by race day that problem had disappeared. In fact, somewhat to my amazement, I suffered no after run stiffness from the Hardrock. My toes were sore and my feet were partially in shreds but this is to be expected on a course like this with the constant pounding from running the downhills in wet feet as a result of crossing numerous streams and rivers on the course.

I also quickly learnt there was little point in trying to run the uphills. It simply is not possible on a course of this type at these altitudes for a person of my speed and experience. The course has to be respected at all times or you simply will not finish. Any attempt to race at traditional ultra speeds or to show up to run unacclimatized will result in a DNF. Several of the top runners failed to follow these rules and without exception they were gone from the race within 40 miles.

My first day of trail marking coincided with the day for marking Handies, the highest point of the course. Having never been higher than 10,000 feet before I was somewhat apprehensive as to whether I could keep up with the others. I soon found myself panting for breath as we climbed a steep 4,000 foot ascent over a distance of little more than 3 miles. Everyone else seemed to be gasping as well though perhaps not as noisily! Due to the perfect weather conditions I wore only shorts and a T-shirt though I did carry a waterproof jacket in a backpack. Some 500 feet from the top black clouds suddenly appeared over Handies peak and a couple a minutes later the temperatures dropped, the winds picked up and a driving snowstorm started.

Taking shelter behind some rocks we were out of the way of the worst of the storm. My confreres almost all of whom were from the south and who had carried a full set of warm clothing with them could not understand why I did not freeze or go into a hypothermic state. I explained this was not too much different from conditions at times back in Canada and one becomes acclimatized to conditions you are constantly exposed to. (Most of my confreres could probably handle the Badwater run in Death Valley but I would probably not).

Fifteen minutes later the storm had gone and soon we were on the top of Handies. No sooner had I taken out my camera when another storm blew up. We rushed down the other side, which was very runnable, and hid behind another crop of rocks. This storm lasted twice as long and was accompanied by thunder and lightning. Some members of our group did not have the time to get off the peak and spent a very uncomfortable time near the top.

That was certainly some initiation to the unpredictability of the climate in the San Juan mountains!

Generally the weather was excellent throughout the trip and did not interfere with the schedule for marking the course. There are three really tough verticals on this course, Handies, Virginius and Grant-Swamp. Handies is tough because it is so long and has the steepest trail pitch. Both Virginius with about 700 feet of climb and Grant-Swamp with some 400 feet have their own challenges. They come at the end of long climbs and involve scrambling on all fours up steep pitches in the 50 to 60 degree range.

Virginius is a three step climb. This year the first was partially snow covered and allowed a choice between climbing in the snow or mud which at least afforded a reasonable footing. During the daylight hours the snow is reasonably soft allowing footholds to be made but at night and early morning it becomes hard and icy and very difficult to climb without equipment such as crampons and an ice-pick. The second level was pure scree and rocks meaning that for every foot of climb you usually slid back three-quarters of the way. The last step was all on snow but was assisted on the last 50 to 75 feet by a rope with which to pull yourself up.

Grant-Swamp, whilst smaller, is just as tough. First this is the last really tough climb coming at the 86 mile mark. It is a single climb up loose scree composed of small rock and dirt which causes you to slide back almost as far as each step taken. The manual warns a lot of energy will be used on this pitch. I thought I had arrived at a solution by finding a small gulch on the left hand side of the pitch. At the bottom of the "v" was generally a rocky material that at least afforded a footing and avoided much of the sliding back and left only a somewhat hairy lateral to the ridge at the top.

I found some of the trails to be somewhat acrophobic in nature. I am no mountaineer and generally avoid positions where a slip can lead to a potentially dangerous situation. Gradually I overcame my apprehensions except for the Bear Creek section before Ouray. Here a narrow trail had been carved or blasted out of a sheer rock face by miners who had then hauled up large sections of equipment for a mine at the top of the trail. The drop offs are several hundred feet. It was an eerie feeling to realize the creek was so far below it could no longer be heard and the only sound was that of the wind! This is definitely one section of the course where you either move or rubberneck but never try both at once!

By the time of my arrival a couple of course sections had already been marked and my own rental car was incapable of handling the four wheel sections to get from one part of the course to another. Fortunately for me an old friend from my first Antarctica trip, Ron Perkins, had come to the Hardrock to watch the event. Ron ferried me to the start of all the places I could not have otherwise reached. This allowed me to see all but a very few sections of the course in advance. Some may question whether it is preferable to know the magnitude of the challenge in advance. I personally feel much more comfortable knowing.

The course is run clockwise and counter clockwise on alternate years. This year was a counter clockwise year and this inevitably bought up conversation about which was the tougher direction. The veterans were almost unanimous the counter clockwise route is. It is true the three toughest climbs are clearly much tougher counter clockwise but also there seemed to be mitigating circumstances. For runners at my level the trails during the first night are excellent. Much of it requires little use of flashlights. Then Handies is over and done with earlier and the last difficult climb is dispensed with at 86 miles. Clockwise, Handies would have to be climbed on the second day and there is a very steep climb at the 92^nd mile. I guess the only way to find out is to return to do it the other direction!

The last three days before the run were for rest and the usual hoopla of formal registration, medical checks and general socializing. The first of these coincided with the July 4 celebrations and Silverton put on a fine show. It started with a parade around the town led by its excellent brass band. Every-one joined in and had a ball. Then the firefighters of Silverton took on their counterparts of surrounding towns in a water fight which soon included any part of the crowd venturing too close. Up to park we then trooped for the rhubarb festival. They say only three things grow in Silverton – rhubarb, dandelions and kids. Anyhow every variety and recipe of rhubarb was available for consumption and we eat heartily to the sounds of the brass band under a magnificent radiant blue sky. Festivities were capped off with a magnificent firework display that would do proud a town one hundred times Silverton’s population.

With two days to go I was already becoming antsy and nervous in anticipation. I had not felt like this at the start of a race since my first 100 miler some six years before. I was ready to go! The Hardrock stone was dragged out to the finish line. This is a large rock some five feet high and traditionally is kissed by each runner as he or she crosses the finish line.

This is how I saw the course. The first 15 miles contains two very tough and difficult climbs and so no attempt should be made to run hard or the course will destroy you. This 15 miles is the equivalent of a 50K run in energy expended almost anywhere else. Then the course is relatively easy over the next 16 miles with no significant climb allowing for a lot of running. This is the section one can make up some time. From the Sherman aid station to the top of Handies is tough. I wanted to reach Grouse Gulch aid station before nightfall (42.5 miles). It seemed incredible I would be satisfied with such a distance in 15 hours – only at Hardrock! Then I would have a lot of night walking first up the jeep trail to Engineer Pass, through Bear Creek to Ouray and along roads to Governor Basin by daylight (65.2 miles). This would allow me the daylight hours for the difficult climbs of Virginius, Grant-Swamp and the long climb to Oscars Pass. I wanted to reach the KT aid station by 7pm on the second day; if I could I believed a finishing time of 43 hours was possible. That became my plan.

July 7 dawned cloudy and cool. Great! Just the kind of weather I prefer, as the sun and heat are always my enemies on grueling runs. It was to stay that way all day. As we set off I had to curb my natural enthusiasm to pick up a good pace. I was breathing heavily on the flat surfaces as we left town. Being about half way back in the pack I enjoyed watching the leaders climbing up to the pass at Dives-Little Giant far above me. They looked like ants following along in order on the single track trail. Every-one wanted to take advantage of the steep downhill into the first aid station at Cunningham Gulch. It seemed more of a stampede. The next section up Buffalo Boy is inexplicably tough. It is almost all jeep trail and only a 3,000 foot climb but it seemed to take forever and to be very tough. However I reached the Maggie Gulch aid station in 5:19 only 4 minutes behind planned schedule.

I took advantage of the next section to Sherman to run continuously and to enjoy the scenery. Many runners say this is their favorite part of the course. The running is easy, there are no sections requiring concentration and so one can relax. It took me 4 ¼ hours to cover the 15 miles to Sherman but had dropped ½ hour behind my plan schedule.

For Sherman to Grouse Gulch, only some 10.8 miles I had allowed myself 6 hours because this includes the climb over Handies. I knew I would have difficulty on this stretch and it seemed my worst fears were coming true as at least twelve runners past me as I puffed and wheezed my way up. I seemed to have no legs above 12,000 feet! Once over the top I resumed a good running pace and was surprised to find I had only required 5 ¼ hours for this leg and was close to ½ hour up on my planned pace.

It was now nightfall and I was delighted to meet a couple of buddies on the road I had come to know back in Silverton, Hans Dieter Weisshaar from Germany and Matt Mahoney from Florida. We agreed to stay together through the night hours and to see what tomorrow would bring. I personally was very happy for their company. With Hans’ mountaineering experience and Matt’s knowledge of the course they got me through the Bear Creek section considerably faster than I would have gone on my own. Thanks to them I maintained my ½ hour gain into Ouray. Here I took the time to ensure I ate well before heading out for Governor Basin. Usually by this time of a race my stomach is reluctant to take food but I had had no problems on this run. Hardrock has demonstrated to me the need to eat early and often on a long ultra, which is something, I have failed in the past to do. Once the stomach has come to the point where it is difficult to accept food, a run can become akin to a death march. Happily for me I managed to avoid that scenario entirely at Hardrock.

The route to Governor Basin was a steady climb on a good jeep trail. It was late night so there was no traffic nor were flashlights needed (mine had become useless at Ouray so I left it there). By Governor I was right back on schedule and feeling pretty good. If I could get over the next three climbs I would be in excellent shape for my 43 hour target. The omens seemed good as I reached the bottom of Virginius. There I found a steel pole some 5 feet in length that would be an excellent assistance for clambering up to the ridge.

The climb seemed to take forever. I estimate it took close to an hour to make that 700 foot climb. Matt who had dropped behind at Governor Basin caught up and we arrived at the ridge almost simultaneously he by making steps in the snow whilst I hauled myself up by the rope. On this ridge in a space no more than 10 by 20 feet with steep drop offs on both sides is the most remarkable aid station on the course. Three persons have hauled up all the supplies to give runners water, hot drinks, hot soup and various foods and cookies. They had done this the previous day and then have spent the night hours and will spend much of the next day manning the aid station. The volunteers who give their time to make the Hardrock the successful run it is are a unique bunch of individuals; the ones on the top of Virginius are truly wonderful and make the runners’ task seem almost secondary to the effort they put in.

Coming off Virginius I made the first of my three mistakes I was to make on this the second day. The section between Virginius and Telluride was one I had not hiked over in the preceding days and from the description there seemed to be little possibility of going off trail. From the top of Virginius I could see the next ridge to head towards some 600 feet below. Without checking carefully I headed off directly towards it instead of tracking to the right around the mountain face. Soon I met a large drop off between me and the ridge causing me to have to backtrack back up onto the mountain to meet the correct trail. This particular error was not too time-consuming but in retrospect it is hard to see how I could have gone off trail since the markings were clear enough. Nevertheless I was only 25 minutes behind plan upon arriving in Telluride. This had been the most difficult downhill section for me although it was easy trail. My feet had begun to ache sufficiently to be discomforting and I had allowed myself to adopt a negative state of mind.

In the Telluride aid station I regrouped my thoughts. Hans and Matt were ahead of me but I knew the course the rest of the way. The next climb to Oscars Pass was long but I knew how to get up Grant-Swamp without great difficulty. It was sunny but not too hot. I felt I could make up the lost time. I set off at a fast walk on the trail that climbed steadily out of Telluride feeling much better on my feet when not going downhill. As the trail branched off and steeped up along cliffs and into the alpine meadows above 12,000 feet I felt better than yesterday at coping with the altitude. Clearly I should have allowed a few more days to acclimatize. I was pleased to catch up with three runners and to pass them shortly after the pass. Most runners seemed to hate the old jeep off Oscars down to the aid station at Chapman Gulch because of the amount of loose rock and dirt. I found it one of the easiest sections on the course. My new found self-confidence was encouraged by the fact I had regained the lost time and I was now 15 minutes ahead of plan.

The flies chased me out of the aid station really fast. It was the only time I ate and moved at the same time. This was the last aid station with drop bags so I had to take a flashlight with me. Finding there was not sufficient space in my belt pack I elected to drop a couple of pieces of clothing including a waterproof poncho. Little did I know it at the time this was to be my second mistake. Climbing up the mountain towards the bowl in which the Grant-Swamp pass is located I noticed dark clouds coming over the ridge towards me. "Just the usual 10 minute downpour" I thought, "the sun will be right back". It was a 10 minute downpour but behind that the skies darkened again. Off and on it rained slightly but the cloud cover was definitely thickening and I began to realize I might be out at 12,000 feet or higher with little more than my running clothes and a wind jacket. Not a smart move!

Then I made my third and most inexplicable mistake. Ascending into the bowl following the markers I was almost at the bottom of Grant-Swamp ready to climb when I told myself to keep to the left where the little gully was. Instead I turned sharp left away from the markers to climb up the left hand side of the bowl! This is what irrationality after 36 hours on your feet can do to you. The crazy thing was this manoevure took me over large dangerous rock piles one slip on which could cause a serious leg injury. Some 20 minutes later when I reached the base of the pitch I seemed determined to climb I heard some distant whistling. Turning I saw a couple of runners waving at me and immediately I realized what I had done. Retracing my steps back over the rock piles I finally got back on course. Up my little gully I scrambled but trying to be too cute decided on a route different to the lateral I had taken the prior time. This probably cost me any time I would otherwise have gained.

By the time I was finally on the pass the rain was coming down in buckets and I was mad with my own stupidity. Somewhat recklessly I hurled myself down the other side sliding onto the animal trail route and markers which led down and off the pass, pursued by a couple of other runners who I thought also wanted to get off the top away from the wind and driving rain. Some twenty minutes later one of them caught up to me to present me with my flashlight that had dropped from my belt in my initial plunge off the ridge. I had to keep running to stay warm. The KT traverse which has a steep pitch of 1,000 feet off one side and which I had crossed apprehensively a few days earlier was now of no consequence. I was happy to reach the KT aid station but my foolishness had put me ¾ hour behind plan.

To my surprise Hans was still there; Matt had left which did not surprise me. Fortunately Hans’ wife was there with a bag of clothes. The two of us are of similar height and build and he had an extra full sleeved top. Some-one else produced a garbage bag, so voilà, instant waterproofing so to speak. Nevertheless the stay in the aid station was close to 25 minutes some 20 minutes more than I like to spend at any time. It is very easy to get to like the comforts of an aid station – best to concentrate on being away as quickly as possible!

From this section to the end I had a pacer. Sabin Snow was a gentleman I had met just before the run began and we did not know a great deal about each other. However Sabin is an experienced ultra runner and this experience and ability to listen to his runner was invaluable to me. We were about to run in some pretty miserable conditions but his approach was very positive. He did a great job for me and Hans, as we were now together for most of the rest of the way. I hope our running paths will cross again sometime in the future.

Although I have said all the tough climbs were now behind us there was still climbing to do starting immediately with a 1,600 foot climb up to the Porcupine Creek-Cataract saddle. It was not yet 8pm yet the skies were so dark with the falling rain that it was like night and we proceeded with our flashlights on. The closer we came to the saddle the more we got into the cloud base making the markers difficult to find. I was now having difficulty with my glasses. For a long time I had kept most of the rain off because of the large peak cap I was wearing. Now the mist gathered on the lenses and there was a tendency for them to fog up. Without Sabin and Hans I would have surely gone off course even though I knew the general route direction.

Over the top of the saddle things got so bad in the mist and rain none of us could see from one marker to the other. So one person would stand at a marker whilst the other two fanned out to find the next one. In this manner we slowly crossed the Cataract basin and then on and up onto the final pass of the Putnam-Lime Creek saddle. At this point it became easy to follow the markers again. In the past runners have become disoriented in the Putnam basin and now we found the markers were no more than 30 feet apart and we could frequently see two to three markers ahead at one time.

Finally the lights of the Putnam Basin aid station appeared ahead of us, the last one before the finish. This stretch of only 6.2 miles had taken us 4 hours 26 minutes. It should have taken no more than three hours. Checking the splits afterwards we had been one of the very slowest on this section but no-one else had past us en route. We saw a few other lights and I was particularly concerned other runners might stray off course and become lost. The rain stopped shortly after we reached the aid station and the weather conditions improved thereafter but between the weather and my own silly mistakes I was now 2 ½ hours behind my planned schedule!

After a 15 minute rest for hot drinks and soup we were feeling no warmer so we felt it to be more prudent to continue. The last section down the Silverton Bear Creek was rocky for all but the last 1½ miles but Sabin instinctively knew the smart thing to do was to set a good pace and I stumbled after him as best I could. With the end of the rain I gradually began to warm up and towards the bottom began to run. I was nearly there and from somewhere I found the energy to run all the good trail. The last river crossing meant we were less than two miles from town. The race organizers in their enthusiasm to keep us off the main road had devised a special route that entailed a final climb up onto a trail that bought us back up and above Silverton. Sabin and I kept running. We left behind a bunch of runners who had come up behind us at the Putnam aid station. Briefly I flirted with the idea of beating 45 hours but had to settle for a time some 6 minutes over that for 47^th place. Hans arrived 18 minutes later. Matt had arrived some 3 hours earlier a time that, had I not made all the errors I had, I might have come close to achieving also.

It was over! I had beaten the course or perhaps it would be better to rephrase it: I had beaten the clock as no-one beats this course. The winner, Kirk Apt, had set a new course record finishing when I was somewhere near Oscars Pass. The leaders had all managed to avoid the bad weather. Of the 116 starters 59 finished within the 48 hour time limit. One further runner finished after 48 hours but because she left the KT aid station before the cutoff time her finish time is recognized. That is a nice touch which race management has introduced.

My adrenalin was still flowing. Four hours sleep and I was back on my feet first for Nancy’s B&B breakfast and then for the closing ceremony breakfast. I was ready to eat anything put in front of me. A week later little has changed! This run has consumed an immense amount of energy and it will probably be a few weeks before I feel fully recovered.

Just in time for this little race called the Spartathlon in Greece at the end of September. Sure, it is only 152 miles but it is a flat course with only 9,000 feet of climb ……