Patagonian Expedition Race
The Youngest Team to Take on the Toughest Race
Team Pata-Gona-Get-Yah! / 12.03.2012
‘So, what races have you done before?’
‘Errrm, None…’
This was quite a common conversation for us in the days prior to the race, it usually ended with shocked and concerned looks from the other party.
Everyone we spoke to seemed to have done this race before. In fact, everyone we spoke to seemed to have done a lot of races before. In fact, everyone here was confirming our fears that we’d managed to enter the hardest and most remote race in the world. Everyone was much older than us and very serious. 18 teams from around the world had been racing hard together, most of them for years, in preparation for the 10th Anniversary of the Patagonian Expedition Race. The 19th team, 3 cavers and one rock hard chick, were here to race against them.
2.30am Tuesday morning and gathering together on the starting line, it suddenly felt very real. Who would have thought a nine day race would start off with a bike sprint; 80 competitors tore up the road out of Punta Arenas and the 75km down to the kayak leg were over before daylight. Arriving near the front of the pack we hurried to put our bikes away and get out onto the kayaks – our first transition was slow and a steep learning curve, we watched several teams overtake us and paddle out into the swell before we were even in drysuits. As dawn broke we realised we were paddling across the Straits of Magellen, we were heading into the unknown of mountainous Dawson Island and making ground on the other teams. This was cool.
6 hours later things were not cool. Dragging 2 large double kayaks through the heart of the island, dense with turba and jungle is painful. Thankfully everyone forgets the bad bits, although my arms still remember the next 60km of kayaking.
Now on Teirra Del Fuego we used the Rio Condor as a handline and headed inland, crossing the river countless times and bypassing jungle using guanaco trails. Here we met the beaver. Having made good progress through the quagmire of beaver hell we pottered up to PC7, 36 hours after transition, with tired feet and looking forward to being back on the bikes soon. Of course, we were very pleased to hear about a 20km extension to our trek…
This bad news was followed by the lowest point in our race. Bursitis, a sudden and immobilising pain, it was the angle required of the knee to clamber over logs which was particularly excruciating – luckily we were in a forest - it was a long, delusional night. When we reached the bikes the next morning we were the walking wounded – bursitis, infected toes and dodgy achillies already taking their toll.
A swift 7 hour recovery ride and we were 120km away from the ‘bad forest’. Somehow rested, refreshed and dosed up on painkillers we filled our packs with food, stuffed our faces and prepared for four days alone …
SleepMonsters
