Saturday 8th April 2006
Provided with breakfast by organisers and everyone then had to hand in any equipment they were not taking, have their packs weighed and examined for essential equipment and food content, and have their ECGs and medical certificates checked. There were brief interviews by medical teams and we were issued with emergency flares and salt tablets. This was done in numerical order at marquees and with my number being 629, it meant I was nearly last.
As the morning passed the temperature and winds rose. The nerves were really getting to me by now and I was continually moving items between my suitcase and pack trying to reduce weight but was unable to get it below about 12 kilos (without water and flare) It felt incredibly chaotic and every time I tried to find something I would have to totally empty my pack in panic and then stuff everything back in, in different places. This would be in total contrast to Barry or Phil who always seemed to be studying my panic attacks and seemed to be so organised with everything neatly arranged. By lunch time it was 36C and a full and violent sandstorm was in progress. Visibility was down to about 30 yards and I began to panic about what it would be like to run in conditions like this. My suitcase, which contained all my clean clothes and kilt, was now full of sand. The sand was blasting against any bare skin with our open-sided ‘tents’ providing little protection. As I went over to the marquees with Darren a violent gust partially blew one down. A French competitor was struck on the leg by one of the large wooden supports and was requiring medical help. Along with some Berbers we attempted to hold the marquee with ropes but this was blistering our hands and eventually the whole thing collapsed.. We were ushered into the remaining marquees and the admin was re-organised. Another huge gust ripped open the side and there were shouts to get out. In the commotion I was pushed backwards over someone’s pack and ended up like a turtle on its back with the weight of my pack preventing me get up. Darren just managed to pull me out before the rest of the tent and supports collapsed. This was totally crazy and I was starting to wonder if I was going to survive until the start, never mind complete the race. I was delighted when eventually the admin procedures were completed. I had passed the checks and only had the minor worry of completing the race. We sheltered in our collapsing bivvy for the rest of the afternoon. Because of the violent conditions the briefing by the race director was postponed until 5.30pm. Minutes before the briefing the storm abated. (Was this divine intervention) Motivating speeches were made, instructions given and a display of camel and horse riding was done by the Berbers, one of whom fell off his camel and broke his arm. We tried not to laugh. Out of 760 entrants 731 competitors from 33 nations had passed the checks. Many entrants had failed the checks, mainly with unsatisfactory ECGs and weren’t allowed to even start.
As darkness fell we sorted out our bedroom as best as possible and dug out the worst of the sand. We were given our last meal to be provided by the organisers and this included a can of beer. We were now on our own and had to be totally self sufficient. Again very little sleep possibly due to the excitement and stress but the rocky surface, snoring and farting didn’t help. Sand was now everywhere. Everything you ate or drank was gritty and every orifice, some that you didn’t even know you had, was stuffed with sand
Sunday 9th April 2006 Stage 1
Bivvy is pulled down by Berbers at 5.30am. Thankfully storm has completely stopped and we are able to make final adjustments to pack. Stuff myself with as much food as possible and its over to the start line. We are given final instructions and numerous aerial shots are taken. Press and TV crews are everywhere and loud rock music is blasted out with Bruce Springsteen’s ‘Born to Run’ remaining memorable. This stage was only to be 28K. Sounded easy, just a normal long training run. There was, however, mention of a lot of sand and of a mountain between CPs (Checkpoints) 1 and 2 with a 15% slope. The temperature was soon to rise to 41C.
I felt a little emotional as I crossed the start line after all the preparation. The adrenaline was pumping, with the Eurosport Helicopter repeatedly flying sideways just above head height filming us and I felt full of energy. We ran through picturesque palm groves and ruined villages with kids appearing from nowhere to give us High Fives. I was running a steady pace but soon became conscious of the burning winds which instantly dried the saliva from your mouth causing the tongue to stick to the lips or throat and became aware that I was using my water very quickly. I was out of water and feeling dehydrated when I reached CP 1. I decided to slow the pace and started to walk 10 m after every 100 m. The mountain was extremely hot and difficult to cross but once on the other side I picked up the pace to CP2 where on arrival I discovered, that to my horror, I had lost my water card which required to be stamped. I searched everywhere but thought I must have left it at the last CP. I was informed that I was to receive a 3 hour penalty which would put me right back at the tail of the field. I continued for the next kilometre with my face tripping me and saying all sorts of swear words then looked down to see the card trapped between my front race number and pack. I immediately ran back against the flow, much to the confusion of other competitors, and was able to cancel the penalty. An extra couple of kilometres run but saved a lot of time. By this time another violent sandstorm was building up and navigation became fairly difficult, Because of the sand you had to cover your face with your buff and goggles and the heat became intense. By this point the race involved more walking than running. I eventually reached the end of the stage in searing heat and feeling very dehydrated only to find that tent 87 had blown down. 5 attempts were made to erect the tent but each time the wind was too strong. There was no where to shelter from the sun and wind and attempts to mix recovery powders were disastrous. I managed to get into one of the Kiwi tents for 20 minutes before it also blew down. Eventually the weather improved and we were able to get the bivvy up. I was fairly pleased as I had finished in the top half of the field despite my card incident. I had no blisters, just a few hot spots on my heels and balls of feet but I realised I had gone off far too fast and would have to slow the pace in the following days as I was incredibly dehydrated. Barry, Mark, Darren and Guy all had blisters which required lancing and iodine poured in. I was so glad not to be in that position. Cooked a meal but there wasn’t even enough water to make my ‘Smash’. Normally after a long run I would be starving but I was struggling to get any food down We were told that 12 competitors had been pulled out and another 21 had been given emergency IVs . That was as much as the whole of last year’s event on the first day. I felt heartbroken for these guys that were out. Everyone had put in so much training and effort and to end so early was very cruel. The organisers acknowledged the extreme weather and an extra bottle of water each was given out. A cheer went round the camp like it was Christmas. A very warm night just requiring sleeping bag liner. Spoke to an English competitor who had been given 5 litres of saline in an IV. He was carrying on and felt great. I would use that as my Joker Card in future as you only got fined 1 hour for your first IV.
Monday 10th April Stage 2 35K
Berbers appeared as ever at 5.30 am to remove bivvy. It looked like it was going to be another very hot day. Had breakfast and whilst waiting for start I noticed a small rip at front of gaiters which I soon repaired with superglue. Tried to shelter from the heat, whilst watching the Ahansal brothers and other elites warming up with stretches and sprints. They are not human! Race started with usual rock music and low flying helicopters. A quick 1 KM sprint across the desert to the foot of a nearby mountain where a long steep mining track led you up the side. The heat was already intense and only the elite runners were actually running up here. A tricky but speedy descent followed on the other side but as we neared CP1 everyone was beginning to walk/ run with temperature already up to 42C. At CP1 I could feel a couple of hot spots on my feet but on trying to remove shoes I discovered that superglue had soaked through shoes and glued my socks to the front of the shoes. What a twat! Do these things ever happen to anyone else. Put some Compeed on and continued on over a series of dried lakes and sand dunes to CP 2. You could feel the heat of the ground coming through your shoes and my feet were really hurting and I was feeling very dehydrated. The only shade I could find was by lying underneath a Doc Trotter Land Rover where I had 20 minutes rest. Decided to use my walking poles for next stage to take some of the pressure off my feet. Crossed a series of dunes then a huge flat, hard, boring plain. Could see tents in distance and thought would never get there. Once within about half a kilometre realised that it was just a Bedouin camp and a herd of camels. Felt very disappointed when I found there was still about 4 KM to go. Finished on autopilot with very sore feet and once again extremely dehydrated. The good news was that my finishing time was still well up in the field. Went to Doc Trotter tent and I was advised to lance and iodine a couple of small blisters and to tape the soles of my feet in the morning. Didn’t have enough water to cook all my food and after a near revolution in camp we were given an extra bottle of water. It was discovered there had already been 68 retirements, many of whom were top experienced competitors. This was already a record for the event and that the medics were having to fly in more saline supplies. Struggled to eat my food and gave away a lot. (Not like me). Another sleepless uncomfortable night with a bit of a stomach upset.
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.
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.
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