Kalahari Augrabies Extreme Marathon
When They Call It A Heat Wave Here In The Kalahari, You Know It’s Serious
Jackie Windh / 29.10.2015
The temperatures are unprecedented for this time of year. I had hoped that there would be a short course option today, given the heat. But there was not: You make the full 80 km, or you are out.
Well, you can only do what you can do. It was my third night having a poor sleep (the first two nights because my mattress had a hole and I was lying on the hard ground – which I think contributed to my body’s inability to cope with the heat). This past night, no one had slept well due to the mosquitos.
The staggered starts were different today – small groups starting every half hour from 6:30 until the final, fastest runners going at 1pm – in the full heat of the day. (It sounds brutal, but it is a fair way of averaging out the proportion of sunlight vs. darkness that all runners get exposed to). Dave and I had assumed we would be in the 6:30 start, but since there were so many small groups and since we had different finishing times the previous day, I started at 7:30 and he stared at 8:00.
I started with two South Africans, Gabriel and Cobus. Cobus was very, very quiet – as he had been the previous afternoon, when Dave and I travelled with him for several hours, and he was very conservative, stopping frequently under the trees. Gabriel chattered incessantly, and although I could barely understand what he said with his thick Afrikaans accent, I appreciated his voice.
I knew that I had to manage my heat meticulously today – there was no room for even the lightest error if I was to have any hope of finishing the 80k, even if it took me 24 hours or more. I had learned what happens when you can no longer control your temperature the day before.
Stopping under a tree half an hour in or so, I let the guys get ahead of me. Only 8am, and so burning hot down here in the canyon. I could not imagine what it would be like for the later starters. It was scary getting going again, too – now alone. No option of zoning out and losing the markers at all – an extra half hour out here off-track could prove deadly.
After a time I had caught up with the guys again. They were playing it cautious too, and we leap-frogged one another for an hour or so, picking tiny patches of shade against the east rock wall or under a thorn shrub. I was quite surprised when I eventually overtook them, but I felt very good about my pace. At least there was a good breeze blowing – if I chose my rest stops carefully for the wind, I could wet my sleeves and get my core temperature back down before proceeding.
The first checkpoint was supposed to be at 8.5 km. (Don’t racers love those words “supposed to be’…) Gabriel had clocked us on his watch at 4.3 km/hr, which is around what I assumed we were doing, given the soft sand, the ascent over rocky sections, and the rest stops. When I saw a race photographer nearly two hours in, I figured I must be close to CP1. “Umm, not really,” he said.
Here is where it starts to get blurry. I was up and out of the canyon, on a plateau. The route was well marked, a vehicle track through the windy plains. There was the occasional thorn bush to squeeze under for shade (I left a lot of my hair out there). It was fairly fast walking, there was flagging and footprints… but I had gone at least 10 km and no checkpoint. Had I somehow passed it? I was nearly out of water, and would not survive another 8 km if I had.
This section proved to be a big problem for everyone. The distance turned out to be around 11.5 km. (The reason for the misinformation was that Estienne had altered the route due to the unprecedented heat, and although we all knew the route was different we understood that the distance was still the same). Many people ran out of water kilometres before. In this heat, you must stay fully hydrated at all times, stomach permanently bloated – because if you get behind at all with your water, it is nearly impossible to catch up.
I did relatively well - only ran out of water 500 m before the checkpoint, and I had managed my temperature so well that I only needed a few minutes there. As I prepared to go, Gabriel and Cobus arrived – along with the five runners who had started at 8:00, including Dave. He looked very hot. I told him not to rush to catch me – he would eventually anyway, and I didn’t want him to push and overheat – and I left.
I did really well over the next session too. I was astonishingly slow, stopping frequently in any shade I could find, but still managing my temperature well. Interestingly, though, was that almost no one was passing me – so everyone else was doing the same. I had serious doubts about whether I would finish this thing, though. It was noon, temperatures would only be rising for the next 4 or 5 hours, and at my current speed (and counting for a long rest stop mid-afternoon) I was on track for finishing in more like 28 or 30 hours. In other words, well into the full heat of the following day.
I made it into CP2 feeling fairly well, considering… but definitely in need of a longer cool-down stop this time. Racers from all different start times were arriving in – some who had started as much as 3 hours after me – but pretty much everyone seemed dazed or in shock by what they were dealing with. Dave arrived with Simone – they had stuck together all morning – and she did not want to proceed in this heat alone, so we all agreed to take a nice cool-down rest here and then stick together.
The race doctor was in attendance, and he looked as stressed as I have seen him (and he has been pretty stressed this whole race). He would not tell us the temperature – but he said if it hit a certain level they would call the race.
The three of us headed out into the heat – stopping literally every fifteen minutes if we could find the tiniest patch of shade. Around 2 km out a vehicle pulled up – the race doctor. “The race is suspended,” he said sternly. “You must stop until further notice, until it cools down. We can transport you back to CP2, and take you back here if it resumes, or you can stop here.” There was room only for maybe five or so people at CP2 in the shade, and we could see a few trees ahead. We opted to take our chances up there. The doctor finally confessed the temperature to us – 44 in the shade. (Remember, that is like 50 in the Sahara – and the hot sand radiated back even more heat below us).
“Be sure to leave a Buff or something on the side of the road, so we know where to look for you,” he commanded, noting the kilometre mark where we were. “And do not leave unless you hear from me directly.”
Our momentary disappointment was quick to disappear. It was nearly 3pm, and we had wanted to take a break for an hour or two for this hottest part of the day anyway. We found a perfect tree – tall and bushy - and even with leaves! –and set up our temporary camp, taking this opportunity to cool ourselves and refuel properly.
A short time later another vehicle pulled up at the Buff and the driver called out to us. It was a local farmer (? We didn’t even know anyone lived around here!). He had been summoned to help, and left us with a 5 litre jug of water. Now we really felt good – we could wait this out for many hours if need be.
It was less than an hour later though that we got the news that the race was called for good. I’ll have to make the rest of this brief as the computer battery is dying. We were all transported back to the intended camp for the night – again by the river –arriving here just after 6pm. The organizers actually did a great job of organizing transport in a hurry – of course there was some waiting around, but they got a bus to us amazingly quickly considering how remote it is, and how rough the dirt tracks are.
There are mixed feelings in camp. Nearly everyone agrees with the decision to call the race – both because of the extreme heat, but also because the checkpoints weren’t equipped to provide the extra water that we all needed as a result of that heat. Many are very disappointed not to be doing the full distance… but we are all safe and healthy.
I’ll write more about some of the personal experiences when I have more time – teamwork definitely saved many people, with racers looking out for others who were collapsing or becoming disoriented, and making sure that they got in to the next checkpoint or that help was sent.
We got word this morning that these temperatures are expected through tomorrow. (It is 41° here in the shade of my breezy gazebo as I type.) If temperatures reach 45° the organisers are legally required to shut down the race. So tomorrow’s 47 km stage is being shortened to 33 km, with CPs every 10 km but water stations every 5 km. That is reasonable.
And just now, the Camp Manager asked the group what we thought of a 4 am start. That was a pretty unanimous yes! At the latest racers should finish around noon – which means there is less chance of the race having to be called off before everyone finishes. So that is the plan. Stay tuned to find out how it goes.
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