Race the Rockies was our second race weekend in a row. Our team had completed Raid the North (Nelson) the week before and even though both races were held in alpine environments (rocky and difficult terrain, LOTS of elevation gain and loss), we felt strong enough to race competitively. Our team would be comprised of only three members for this race, Joey Roa, Darcy Campbell and me, Marlene Bustos, supported by Brandin Chivilo. We had high hopes for the top ten finish that we had narrowly missed at Raid the week before. The race was held in Golden, BC, and the weather and views that promised to be breathtaking did not disappoint us. We checked in with the rest of the teams on Friday night, made arrangements to drop our boat with the river crew, and made it back to the hotel with lots of time to spare for a good sleep. Considering that we would have to leave at 4:00 am for the pre-race meeting, we would need it.
The race began on the bikes at the stroke of 6:00 am and as is the usual pattern, the entire field was playing follow the leader up the steep ski hill. After a couple of wrong turns and backtracking, we got on the right trail and powered up just as the sky was beginning to lighten. With barely any track to follow on some sections, we were witness to several spectacular wipeouts, including a beautiful end-o right in front of me in which I was surprised the guy did not break his neck. Adventure racers are sturdy bunch. I had my own opportunity to make like I was unbreakable when I jumped a creek onto about 6 inches of trail, congratulated myself briefly on my clearly outstanding biking skills, and then fell head first into a washout. Unable to move because I was still clipped in and unable to breath because my face was in the dirt, I was thankful for the racer who stopped to pick my bike up off of me and then for my teammates who hauled me out of the ditch. This should have been my first inkling that things might not go as well as we hoped. We arrived at the first transition and found Brandin as organized as always and excited to tell us we were in second place. A quick change and water fill and we were off to the boat.
After the boys got the boat in the water and I hopped in, I realized that we had forgotten my portable seat and started a long litany of complaints - the water was cold, my knees were stiff, I couldn't reach the water with my paddle…you get the idea. I figured this would be a loooong paddle and once again I was not disappointed. The mist rising from the water in the brisk morning air was so beautiful that it took my mind off my discomfort for many minutes though, and then we had more entertainment when we saw a couple of teams swimming to shore that had passed us only moments before. We didn't laugh until after we asked them if they were okay, I promise. The mist got so thick we couldn't see more than a couple of metres in front of us for a while and we had a few more laughs when we had to make a pit stop of our own (we were really well hydrated) and almost didn't make it to shore in time. After more than two hours of paddling - okay, I paddled for maybe half of that, but the guys did GREAT - we saw the take out and started mentally preparing for the next section, a trek to our bikes while carrying our biking gear.
All of us were chilled to the core at the beginning of this leg and were hopeful that the sun would warm us quickly. Good thing we started with some bushwhacking to get the blood moving! I finally got to navigate something, as the cutline that we travelled was pretty overgrown in places and there was lots of log leaping and belly crawling. We arrived in good order at the bikes, changed to our bike shoes quickly and got on the road to the next TA.
We were about 5 minutes into the ride when Darcy's water bottle cage slid off his frame and we stopped to fix that - and thank goodness we did. I was feeling remarkably winded and we were still on a flat road. Uh oh, I figured, that was bad news. After we got going again I tried to ease in a bit more but then we hit a slight grade that magnified the crappy feeling and I was forced to ask for a tow. That went great! Towing is the greatest thing since disc brakes and dual suspension. I suppressed my guilt for eating a chocolate bar while being pulled up the hills by calling out words of encouragement to Darcy and Joey, who were both sweating profusely in the hot summer sun. We made it to the next TA after only a couple of anxious 'where should we turn' moments. Isn't it great how roads that aren't on maps miraculously appear right when you need them?
The next trek section looked as though we would have to travel on bearing alone up and over some serious elevation, so we were thrilled when the very easily travelled road we were on kept going in the right direction. Adele and Shawn the photographer dogged our steps up the road looking for great photo ops and of those there were plenty! The rocky crags were stunning against the bright blue sky and gave us a good glimpse of what we would be travelling between CP 6 and 7. We reached the Gorman Lake CP in plenty of time to make the cut off and were thrilled to be 'officially' on the advanced section and in 6th place to boot. We knew then that a top ten finish could be easily achieved. Unfortunately, a race isn't over until you cross the finish line and we would soon prove to be so close and yet so far.
The initial scree slopes were super steep but it was the hot sun that beat us down the most. Whatever adversity we had come through, however, was erased from our minds when we turned around at the first summit and saw from where we had come. The view was magnificent and unforgettable. Knowing that we had a few more of these summits to enjoy, we pressed on. CP6 was on the edge of another gorgeous mountain lake and we could see it from a long way away. The trouble was, we had to traverse several almost vertical slopes and various boulder gardens before we got to it. Joey the goat showed us a great dance manoeuvre across the slippery slope and between the rocks (most as big as cars, rather frightening!), which moved us in the right direction until we dropped down beside the lake. We could hear other teams screaming and calling above us on the ridge and thought we might enjoy a rock shower, but we made it to CP6 with nary an incident. The awesome folk at this CP had filtered water and Werther's candies that they readily shared - and after doing so we started to chase the racers ahead of us up yet another rocky rise.
Two more summits brought us to the final stretch of the race and here we opted to gain the elevation immediately and travel across the ridge instead of contouring around as other racers were doing. Stopping to catch our breath and check the map, we were totally surprised when disaster struck. After a brief chat about bearing, gondolas and distance yet to travel, I took only one step towards Joey and Darcy before going down. Hard. It took the guys only a fraction of a second to respond to my call of pain and I leaned on Joey while Darcy straightened out my left leg. The flash of pain and the site of my foot dangling off the end of my leg were pretty conclusive that I was badly injured and the boys went into immediate survival mode. Pretty impressive I must say. Joey wasted no time in improvising splint materials and Darcy got busy making me as comfortable as possible for the splint process. Not wanting to pass out and miss a single second of being waited on hand and foot (pardon the pun) by two guys at once, I avoided all semblance of movement that would send the shock waves of pain up my leg.
After a brief but tense few minutes, we were joined by the first of what would be a steady procession of hardy and helpful souls who took on the elevation gain with not a single complaint. The second of these visitors was Chris Wenger from Team Talus and although I have never seen 'leg splint' on any mandatory gear list, he produced one along with the tensor wrap needed to secure it before heading off to the finish line to alert the race organizers of our plight. We settled in to wait for the rescue crew.
Even though we were only a few kilometres from the finish line, the terrain made it impossible to make contact without a repeater for the radio. With darkness and cold falling fast, Joey found himself a communications hub as racers all around us were bunking down for the night. After reassuring a lost team and a sick soloist that help was on the way, Joey assisted Darcy in getting us set up for our night on the exposed side of the 8200' ridge that we found ourselves on. Scared to move me because they did not know the extent or severity of my injury, they offered up all their warm clothes to ensure I was as comfortable as could be and then shivered without complaint until more teams dropped by to offer assistance. Accepting a few sleeping bags and some food eased their discomfort considerably and we were all enjoying dozing beneath the multitude of stars in the heavens when Joey let out a yell that almost made Darcy jump out of his skin. Who knew that there were rats at that altitude? Rats that like to climb on racer's heads. Ewwwwww.
Medic Dave Watt and perennial life-saver Tom Zidek appeared on our frosty ridge after about 7 hours and proceeded to do what they were trained to do - save us. After a cursory examination of the injury, it was determined that I was to have the most adventure of all by enjoying a helicopter evacuation at daybreak. We needed to get to the sheltered side of the ridge for the rest of the night, however, and this was accomplished by having Tom haul me piggyback across the ridge and down a few metres to a perfect bivouac site. He very kindly provided extra adventure by showing me the stunning views while standing on the edge of a sheer drop into a pitch-black chasm, and I tried not to choke him with a death grip while concentrating on not having my bladder let go. Fear is a wonderful motivator…
We arose to a dazzling sunrise, which kept my eyes occupied while Tom and Dave re-wrapped my badly swollen ankle. With morbid curiosity getting the best of me, I sneaked a peek and was immediately sorry - I was pretty sure that skin shouldn't be that colour. The approaching helicopter was a very welcome site and Tom prepared me for the lift over, hoisting me up to the ridge once again.
Waving to my team mates as the ground dropped away from beneath the helicopter filled me with relief and sadness - relief that I would soon get the medical attention I required, and sadness because I was in the chopper and the boys would get to hike the rest of the way down. I was in the Golden hospital 10 minutes later and in x-ray 5 minutes after that. The radiologist that had to come in to work on her day off to take the pictures of my broken limb said at least I had made it worth her while - she couldn't even begin to count the number of fractures, so just wrote 'shattered' on the file. Nevertheless, I was wearing a plaster cast, pumped full of painkillers, and resting (almost) comfortably within a half hour. Small town hospitals are awesome.
Wrapping up a race report always feels somewhat like an Academy Award acceptance speech and even though there have been numerous emails and phone calls of thanks, I cannot pass up one more chance to say it. To all those who cared enough to climb all the way up to offer assistance, to those who relayed the important coordinate information to HQ, to those who watched out for me, my team and my family through this emergency, and especially to those who have more on their mandatory gear list than is actually mandatory, thank you for being in this race.
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