2016 ITERA, PART THREE
When the alarm went off at 3:30, the first thing we noticed was that the tent was shaking and the wind was literally howling. We got out of the tent and the total darkness did little to excite us about getting back in our boats. Walking the 10 steps to the eastern point of the island, we saw cresting waves pointed right at us and felt a wind we could lean into. We huddled back in the tent and decided to break out the cellphone to call race HQ to see what info they could give us. Cliff searched his gear. No phone. Searched again. No phone - he had switched dry-bags at the last moment and the phone was back in the TA box. Facing the realization that we were effectively cut off from any communication on race updates or modified cut-offs, we made the decision to continue to wait for the storm to abate until at least first light, even though we knew this would put us in danger of making the 1 p.m. cutoff in Galway. We set the alarm for 4 a.m. and when it came along and it was still terrible conditions out, so we waited until 5 a.m. Then 6 a.m. At first light, we decided the weather was not going to get better and we had better get going. We were on the water by 6:45 and as we set out, we saw the Japanese team, Fujin Raijin, head by at a snail’s pace, looking like they had had a very long night. We got into the lee of the next island to the east and Kate asked them how they were doing. They gave us the thumbs-up, and we asked them if they had gotten any sleep, and one of their team said, “Very little.” They didn’t seem to need any help, so with another thumbs-up, we kept going.
Our progress felt scarily slow. Out of the lee of the island, we were facing curling 1-2 foot waves and a fierce headwind into which we moved about 2 kph. We went back to our trusty system of tethering the boats together, and that only helped a very tiny bit. We put Starker and Cliff in the front boat but they seemed to be rocking too much with so much weight in the boat, hurting forward momentum. Tried both women in the front seat, to little avail. Finally, after two or three hours, we pulled up on an island and did the math: at the pace we were going there was no way we were going to make the cutoff in Galway. We made the decision to pull the plug, and headed toward the most likely place we could find a phone: a friendly-looking house on the southern shore of the lake with a person loading a car outside of it.
We headed for the person, and he turned out to be French. Luckily we had our fluent translator Claire with us, she was able to ascertain that we had landed at a B&B. We were led inside and met the caretaker, who let us use her phone to call race HQ. We should have asked about the Galway cutoff, but we thought that using the phone disqualified us (it turned out it didn’t). The person we spoke with told us to leave the boats and get a ride to the nearby town of Oughterard. We called a taxi and wound up at a gas station in Oughterard, where we got some pasties and hot coffee. Exiting the store, we saw the Bobkittens, an all-female Canadian team, and a race van and volunteer. We got the low-down that many teams had come off the lake, and that there was somewhat of a line for transportation down to Kinvarra, where our bikes where. At this point, it was 10 a.m. and we were told to get some food and wait for a ride, which would happen in the next hour or two. We got some food and checked back in. No updates. Kept waiting. Nothing doing. Bobkittens eventually got their ride, but we remained stuck. Eventually we set up our tent in a park nearby the designated pick-up spot and crashed for a couple of hours. Still nothing. At 4 p.m., we were told a van was coming to pick us up, and we got our hopes up, but we cruised around for a couple of hours trying to spot wayward teams and boats (with Kate occasionally navigating for the overtired volunteers). At 6 p.m., we landed back in Oughterard and resolved to make our own way to Kinvarra by taxi. By 7 p.m., 75 euro lighter, we arrived at the TA.
After so much rest, we were full of energy and ready to hit the biking section hard. We made good time to the Ailwee cave, about 15K along a nice road with a peaceful nocturnal view over Galway Bay. We arrived at the caves around 11 p.m. (remember we had to build our bikes and get packed for a 200k bike ride), biking up a steep hill to the entrance. We got instructions on how to find the 2 cave CPs and brought our bikes deep into the cave. We left them at the end of the metal walkway where we found the first CP, then jumped over the railing and got to do a neat spelunk to the back of the long cave, finding the second CP after wedging our way through some tight squeezes and crossing a freezing cold sump. Arriving back to our bikes after about 20 minutes, we got the unique experience of biking back out of the cave. Unfortunately, the rain was just as intense when we left as it had been when we arrived, and before mounting up, volunteer Brian Keough, who had been racing with a team that had withdrawn, taught us the neat trick of popping holes in our emergency blankets to make a sweater of sorts - a warmth layer that would prove its worth shortly thereafter.
Heading out after midnight from the caves, we made our way up to the Burren, a series of rocky, treeless hills. We caught up to and followed another team for a few kilometers, but Cliff’s handlebars were loose and we stopped to tighten the bolts. Continuing another kilometer, we turned too early at a sign we thought was pointing us up the Warren Way, the required route. We did the climb up to the ridge, as expected, but then the trail inexplicably turned south to stay on the ridge instead of dropping off to the east. We couldn’t figure it out, but ignoring our one working odometer and trusting in the AR rule that you travel slower than you think at night, we continued on into the blasting wind and rain. After 90 minutes of walking back and forth along the ridge, going south instead of east, we decided to bail and head back the way we came in. Already feeling behind the race, not to mention a bit battered and scared of what the wind along the coast was like, we decided to take the inland route (off course) directly down Route 67, with the hopes of making the morning ferry in Kilrush. Even inland, however, the wind was brutal, slowing us to the point where we were even in our granny gears going downhill.
By 4 a.m., we reached the town of Lisdoonvarna, far slower than we had expected to be traveling. We needed to get out of the wind and take a rest, so we tried the church, but it was locked. Then we found a local hotel with its door unlocked and spent a soggy and quite frankly depressing 20 minutes sitting on the floor of the lobby, worried if we sat on the furniture we would ruin it because we were so wet. Spirits were low but there was no other option but to push on. By 6 a.m., we arrived in Lahinch, a beach/surf town that was eerily quiet and empty-feeling. The previous 5k had probably been the hardest of the ride, with winds in excess of 50 mph, gusts perhaps reaching 60 mph (no joke). Arriving in town, Kate and Claire both had had enough and we decided to call race HQ to tell them we were done.
In the meantime, we sought out shelter. The only door that was unlocked belonged to the laundry/trash room of a local hotel, and we had an entertaining few minutes in standing around in an incredibly smelly cement room surrounded by freshly-washed towels. Kate and Cliff called race HQ, who advised us to get some rest, so we tried our luck with the front door of the hotel, and after a lot of knocking, a skeptical-looking man let us in and listened to us explain our situation. He led us into a sitting room, where we once again sat on the floor for fear of ruining furniture, and then he disappeared. We were wondering if was trying to politely give us the signal that we were not wanted when he reappeared with a continental breakfast - croissants, toast and jam, hot coffee and tea. Everyone lit up and began simultaneously uttering thanks for our salvation and stuffing our mouths.
Upping his game, the night watchman, Clyburn, then said he might have a room for us, even though they were completely booked. The room, it turned out, didn’t have a working shower, but the attached swim club did. We jumped at the opportunity for a little R&R, and we got into the room, changed, and went down for a second breakfast, where we ran into EarthSeaSkyNZ, a Kiwi team that had just been to the Cliffs of Moher, which we had skipped. We were impressed with their desire to push on after the meal, but not inspired enough to skip out on a nap. We slept from 9 a.m. until noon, then had a team discussion. With the weather still terrible, we voted to stay at the hotel for the remainder of the day and night, then leave early the next morning to continue our bike south. Hot tubs at the swim club, another nap, dinner and an overnight sleep felt a little overindulgent, but after three days and a very long night of cold, windy hell, none of us were saying no.
Our progress felt scarily slow. Out of the lee of the island, we were facing curling 1-2 foot waves and a fierce headwind into which we moved about 2 kph. We went back to our trusty system of tethering the boats together, and that only helped a very tiny bit. We put Starker and Cliff in the front boat but they seemed to be rocking too much with so much weight in the boat, hurting forward momentum. Tried both women in the front seat, to little avail. Finally, after two or three hours, we pulled up on an island and did the math: at the pace we were going there was no way we were going to make the cutoff in Galway. We made the decision to pull the plug, and headed toward the most likely place we could find a phone: a friendly-looking house on the southern shore of the lake with a person loading a car outside of it.
We headed for the person, and he turned out to be French. Luckily we had our fluent translator Claire with us, she was able to ascertain that we had landed at a B&B. We were led inside and met the caretaker, who let us use her phone to call race HQ. We should have asked about the Galway cutoff, but we thought that using the phone disqualified us (it turned out it didn’t). The person we spoke with told us to leave the boats and get a ride to the nearby town of Oughterard. We called a taxi and wound up at a gas station in Oughterard, where we got some pasties and hot coffee. Exiting the store, we saw the Bobkittens, an all-female Canadian team, and a race van and volunteer. We got the low-down that many teams had come off the lake, and that there was somewhat of a line for transportation down to Kinvarra, where our bikes where. At this point, it was 10 a.m. and we were told to get some food and wait for a ride, which would happen in the next hour or two. We got some food and checked back in. No updates. Kept waiting. Nothing doing. Bobkittens eventually got their ride, but we remained stuck. Eventually we set up our tent in a park nearby the designated pick-up spot and crashed for a couple of hours. Still nothing. At 4 p.m., we were told a van was coming to pick us up, and we got our hopes up, but we cruised around for a couple of hours trying to spot wayward teams and boats (with Kate occasionally navigating for the overtired volunteers). At 6 p.m., we landed back in Oughterard and resolved to make our own way to Kinvarra by taxi. By 7 p.m., 75 euro lighter, we arrived at the TA.
After so much rest, we were full of energy and ready to hit the biking section hard. We made good time to the Ailwee cave, about 15K along a nice road with a peaceful nocturnal view over Galway Bay. We arrived at the caves around 11 p.m. (remember we had to build our bikes and get packed for a 200k bike ride), biking up a steep hill to the entrance. We got instructions on how to find the 2 cave CPs and brought our bikes deep into the cave. We left them at the end of the metal walkway where we found the first CP, then jumped over the railing and got to do a neat spelunk to the back of the long cave, finding the second CP after wedging our way through some tight squeezes and crossing a freezing cold sump. Arriving back to our bikes after about 20 minutes, we got the unique experience of biking back out of the cave. Unfortunately, the rain was just as intense when we left as it had been when we arrived, and before mounting up, volunteer Brian Keough, who had been racing with a team that had withdrawn, taught us the neat trick of popping holes in our emergency blankets to make a sweater of sorts - a warmth layer that would prove its worth shortly thereafter.
Heading out after midnight from the caves, we made our way up to the Burren, a series of rocky, treeless hills. We caught up to and followed another team for a few kilometers, but Cliff’s handlebars were loose and we stopped to tighten the bolts. Continuing another kilometer, we turned too early at a sign we thought was pointing us up the Warren Way, the required route. We did the climb up to the ridge, as expected, but then the trail inexplicably turned south to stay on the ridge instead of dropping off to the east. We couldn’t figure it out, but ignoring our one working odometer and trusting in the AR rule that you travel slower than you think at night, we continued on into the blasting wind and rain. After 90 minutes of walking back and forth along the ridge, going south instead of east, we decided to bail and head back the way we came in. Already feeling behind the race, not to mention a bit battered and scared of what the wind along the coast was like, we decided to take the inland route (off course) directly down Route 67, with the hopes of making the morning ferry in Kilrush. Even inland, however, the wind was brutal, slowing us to the point where we were even in our granny gears going downhill.
By 4 a.m., we reached the town of Lisdoonvarna, far slower than we had expected to be traveling. We needed to get out of the wind and take a rest, so we tried the church, but it was locked. Then we found a local hotel with its door unlocked and spent a soggy and quite frankly depressing 20 minutes sitting on the floor of the lobby, worried if we sat on the furniture we would ruin it because we were so wet. Spirits were low but there was no other option but to push on. By 6 a.m., we arrived in Lahinch, a beach/surf town that was eerily quiet and empty-feeling. The previous 5k had probably been the hardest of the ride, with winds in excess of 50 mph, gusts perhaps reaching 60 mph (no joke). Arriving in town, Kate and Claire both had had enough and we decided to call race HQ to tell them we were done.
In the meantime, we sought out shelter. The only door that was unlocked belonged to the laundry/trash room of a local hotel, and we had an entertaining few minutes in standing around in an incredibly smelly cement room surrounded by freshly-washed towels. Kate and Cliff called race HQ, who advised us to get some rest, so we tried our luck with the front door of the hotel, and after a lot of knocking, a skeptical-looking man let us in and listened to us explain our situation. He led us into a sitting room, where we once again sat on the floor for fear of ruining furniture, and then he disappeared. We were wondering if was trying to politely give us the signal that we were not wanted when he reappeared with a continental breakfast - croissants, toast and jam, hot coffee and tea. Everyone lit up and began simultaneously uttering thanks for our salvation and stuffing our mouths.
Upping his game, the night watchman, Clyburn, then said he might have a room for us, even though they were completely booked. The room, it turned out, didn’t have a working shower, but the attached swim club did. We jumped at the opportunity for a little R&R, and we got into the room, changed, and went down for a second breakfast, where we ran into EarthSeaSkyNZ, a Kiwi team that had just been to the Cliffs of Moher, which we had skipped. We were impressed with their desire to push on after the meal, but not inspired enough to skip out on a nap. We slept from 9 a.m. until noon, then had a team discussion. With the weather still terrible, we voted to stay at the hotel for the remainder of the day and night, then leave early the next morning to continue our bike south. Hot tubs at the swim club, another nap, dinner and an overnight sleep felt a little overindulgent, but after three days and a very long night of cold, windy hell, none of us were saying no.
CONTINUED...
OR GO BACK...
