Tuesday 11th April 2006 Stage 3 38 km



After the number of drop outs on the first 2 stages everyone was a bit concerned, but soon Bruce Springsteen was blaring away, the helicopter was buzzing over our heads and we were off over a small series of dunes. I got about 1km before I had to stop to throw up. I don’t know if it was dehydration or a bug but I felt a lot better after it and maintained a fair pace with a mixture of walk /run up to CP 1. I continued to use my poles all the way. After CP1 where the temperature was already 39.5C we crossed a long flat dried lake to the foot of an enormous sand mountain. The temperature was soaring and a lot of competitors were falling by the wayside. Once again lack of water was a major issue. At mid-day I reached a small bush near the top of the climb offering limited shade with about 6 other French guys. I lay down there and the next thing I remember was a French guy pouring water onto my face. I must have momentarily dozed off and the French twerp thought I was unconscious. My immediate concern was that it was my water he was wasting. He indicated that he had been about to set off my flare. I decided that he was bad company and this spurred me into action again. I worked out that CP2 was less than 1km further on after a very steep climb. I managed this climb with great difficulty. It was very steep, hands and knees stuff, through deep sand with other bits that were similar to rock climbing.
It was at this point, I later learned, that Darren tried to find shade behind a boulder only to find a Japanese competitor lying unconscious. He was unable to wake the guy and set of his flare for help.
He was totally unaware the CP was only 200metres away on the ridge and was amazed when the Race Organiser Patrick Bauer suddenly appeared about 30 seconds later to find out what was wrong. Darren managed to continue to the CP, but he was dehydrated, his feet were like mince and infection was already beginning. He was out and had to be flown off the hill by helicopter. He said he was in tears as he had to hand over his race numbers.
I reached CP 2 feeling very poorly. The balls of my feet and my heels were agony and I felt so dehydrated. I found a bit of shade and forced down some food but the temperature was now just over 50C and I felt best to get on. The rest of the ridge and the descent were relatively easy and I managed to get a good steady run going as there was a deep sandy path through the rocks which relieved a lot of pressure from my feet. As I neared the bottom I found a French guy who had gone down and appeared to have broken his leg. He indicated that he had already requested help and on reaching the bottom of the hill saw some girls were pointing him out to medics.
There was then a never ending stony flat plain to cross. It felt like a hot oven with no sign of shade.
I soon caught up with Mark. He was in considerable distress with the heat and his feet were shot.
I offered to walk with him and urged him on but he told me to carry on. I felt really guilty, but relieved, as I knew he was out and that if I stayed with him I would also quit. What a rotten way for him to celebrate his 49th birthday.
The plain seemed to go on forever and the heat intensified with no sign of shade. I was down to less the half a litre of water and was beginning to hallucinate which was a first and very strange experience. I’d also had a couple of nose bleeds and was well aware that these were symptoms of dehydration. There were no sign of any medics as they were all obviously busy with serious casualties. It began to dawn on me that I was in a spot of trouble and for the first time I was genuinely concerned about my welfare. I saw a Japanese film crew in a Land Rover in the distance, I approached then hoping to shelter in the shade of the car but as soon as I got there they drove off. I could feel my skin and lips beginning to burn like Clint Eastwood in the Good, The Bad and the Ugly. I lay down behind a rock on the ground, which was in itself scorching and got out my white paper suit, which I used to keep warm at night, and was able to create a bit of shade and reflect the sun off me. I took my cotton tee shirt off and was able to wipe my face and head with it as the back, which had been under the rucksack, was soaked with sweat. After 20 minutes my body temperature must have dropped a bit and with the encouragement of a passing Swedish guy I was able to get going again to the end of the plain. I was convinced that the next CP was close but there was a giant dune to cross first. When I came down the other side of the dune I was shattered to see no CP but a second huge dune. There was a Doc Trotter Land Rover parked beside a small tree with around 8 people lying in the shade all receiving IV drips. I approached them and begged some water, knowing that there would be a 1 hour penalty for same. Unfortunately and scarily, they were also out of water but did have a couple of litres of saline which they offered to me in an IV. There was a cut off for the next CP and as the drip would take over an hour there just wasn’t time, so I declined and crossed the next dune. There was another 2.5k of dried out lake to cross and by this time I didn’t have a drop of water. Luckily the temperature was starting to fall. I finally reached the CP 30 minutes before the final cut off. I took an extra bottle of water and I downed half of it in almost in a single gulp. I knew there was a time penalty for this but by now I had lost all interest in competing, I only wanted to finish. I suffered for this about two minutes later by throwing most of it up. (Lesson learned to sip water not gulp)
The sun was now well down and I was feeling ok. We continued through a long Wadi before coming to a small village with a solar powered well. I was able to stop, pour water over myself and even wash my hat and shirt. It was heaven. Unfortunately this made me cold and shivery, probably due to dehydration. I had heard stories about people lost in the desert having to drink their own urine. They couldn’t have been too bad as I hadn’t managed a pee since Monday morning.
The next 6km to the bivvy were easy, albeit stony and tough on the feet. I was elated on crossing the finish. Another 60 competitors had dropped out. An Irish guy from the next tent was in a critical condition with a core body temperature of 41C. He had been ventilated, was in a coma and was being flown to France. It was not thought he would survive. 2 other competitors were in a serious condition and had both been in comas. One of them, a petite Finnish girl, had been given 7 litres of saline after a minor stroke. She was going to require a brain scan. As she recovered she was able to speak English but not her native tongue….very weird. On learning that Darren and Mark were out I felt even more down. Several people were seriously ill and I was starting to wonder if the suffering was all worthwhile, but, having survived what I had just done, I was not for quitting. I staggered over to Doc Trotters to get my feet patched. You were required to remove strapping outside the tent, wash them in disinfectant, then get treatment. As I removed the strapping over the balls of my feet I say that all the skin on my soles was peeling away. I had a problem.
I went into the tent and was lying on my back with either foot on a different doctor’s lap like a gynaecological examination. As the doctors removed the strapping both said ‘ooh la la’. A Japanese camera man was filming me from behind them. The first doctor said that the blisters were very bad and that I would not be able to do the 72 k stage tomorrow. With the tiredness and pain I immediately began sobbing thinking of how much I had put into this. The cameraman came round and zoomed into my face. I picked up a tub of some ointments and threw them at him shouting to F, off. He did.
The doctors then calmed me and explained that they could not force me out because of foot damage and it was up to me but they thought it very unlikely that I would get through the next day. I asked them to do their best and they spent about 20 minutes cutting the dead skin from my feet and smothering it in iodine. I have never felt pain like it. They strapped me up and told me I should not touch the dressings. (There was no chance of that) Other small blisters were lanced and I was shown how to strap them later. I returned to tent 87 and was greeted by the sounds of laughter and joking. All the guys were in great spirits even Darren and Mark were making jokes. Another announcement was made that there was to be extra water supplied. Extra bottles were also to be given out at the first 3 CPs tomorrow. The first severe mountain of tomorrow’s stage was also going to be missed out.
The organisers had realised the mistake they had made in restricting the water. The severe conditions had almost cost the lives of 3 and had already eliminated nearly 20% of the field. This was by far the hardest MDS ever.
I was still really worried about tomorrow’s big stage. If it was anything like today’s there would be no way I would complete it. Whilst at the tent one of the officials handed out emails to all the competitors. There were a lot from my friends and family boosting my morale and assuring me I would make it. There was also one from my mum which was the first and, as it turned out, the only, email that she ever sent. She told me that ‘she was feeling tired crossing the sand with me but that we WILL get there.’ I felt really emotional after reading these emails thinking of all my sponsors, letting people down and wondering how I could return having to explain for the rest of my life why I quit. I felt more determined than ever.