We dragged our boats over some beach and grass and collected our bags just as we saw Rootstock checking out of TA. We wondered if they were going for CP 4, which was a 2,000-foot climb out of TA, and I silently guessed they were. Meanwhile, we got about changing out of our soaked clothes and collecting our food and gear necessary for our planned 10-hour trek. Our transition was around 25 minutes, which we thought was decent, and we headed out of TA into the gloaming at a jog. Our plan was to skip CPs 4 and 5, saving 4,000 to 5,000 feet of vertical and several miles of extra hiking. As a bonus, we got several miles of road jogging, which felt great after sitting in plastic kayaks all day.
We made good progress, interrupted only by my own search for a headlight battery that dropped out of my chest pocket when I bent down to tie my shoe and a stop from Tom to deal with an upset stomach. We wound through a forest and then into a valley along a loch, and then began our long slog up a steep slope toward CP 6. We saw some lights ahead and behind us that motivated us to keep up a brisk pace, but we ended up traveling on own for the entire stage. Tom and Kit made a great correction to get CP 6, which was a bit hidden at the stream exit out of a small mountain lake and which had no flag, and then navigated us well through a descent through knee- to nipple-high undergrowth. Then along a road for a bit before peeling off and heading back another steep uphill. The going was slow and that felt a little frustrating but we could gauge from the other lights around us that we weren’t losing any time. We skirted around the summit and found a small foot or game path across a screefield that set us up for the final climb up to the mountaintop CP7, which we hit right at dawn. The views of the strait to the north, shrouded in fog, were stunning and got better as the light improved while we descended into TA 2. The descent was long and on road and we decided there was no point in running it and potentially destroying our quads, because we weren’t allowed to leave the TA on the next kayak stage until the first full course team came through. We finally arrived at Duart Castle to be told we had to be quiet and respectful because “the lord was in residence.” We also were told the top team was only around 15 minutes behind us, so out went our dreams of a nap, though the two other short-course teams who had arrived an hour in front of us looked like they had been able to grab a quick one.
We donned our drysuits and got our boats ready and our food packed, filled up on water, and I got a rebuke from the TA volunteers for changing in the bathroom, which was apparently in full view of the castle’s windows. Then we headed down to the beach, a few minutes behind the top teams. There was a crazy field of jellyfish we had to wade through to get to a place we could paddle unimpeded and they glowed an ethereal electric blue under the water as we pointed our bows north. It was fun to be with the front of the pack, and we chatted briefly with Endurancelife and Sweco before they pulled away from us. Lucy from Endurancelife fully endorsed face-splashes as a way to keep your teammates from falling asleep, which was definitely happening a bit in our boat, as there was still a foggy mistiness over the water that felt way too close to Dreamland to prevent us from head-bobbing. Luckily, the fog cleared and we were able to navigate directly to a small island with a lighthouse, where Kit interrupted a half-dozen sunbathing seals to have an emergency pee, and then we made good time against the current to finish up the stage at TA 3, dodging a fast-moving Mull ferry on our final approach.
At the TA, we were greeted with the less-than-welcome news that we’d have to portage our boats and all our gear an unknown distance up a road to the actual TA at a community center. It turned out to be about a quarter of a mile. On our way in, we saw Sweco roll out on their bikes and we gave them a cheer. We aimed for another quick TA, but ended up taking longer with this one due to having to build our bikes, having to go inside to change and lube, and having to move all our heavy stuff to trucks further uphill along the road. We spent at least 45 minutes here, but got on the road in good spirits and ready for a bike ride. The first bit involved what seemed to be a classic Scottish feature of a narrow paved road definitely not wide enough to allow two cars to pass each other. We got into a good rhythm here and pushed together with the friendly Can Ganny team until CP 9, near a brewery where we were tempted to stop for a cold beer, since it was hot and sunny out. We resisted its siren call and instead did a short climb up a gravel road with a fantastic view of the sea. As a result, we got distracted and missed a turn, and both Can Ganny and Adventure Trophy passed us here. The next section was my favorite of the race – eminently rideable doubletrack and dirt roads with stunning views off to our left of Loch Sunart, interspersed with interactions with an occasional, oddly banged Highland cow. We then had a hike-a-bike section that really wasn’t as unpleasant as I thought it might be, and then a steep but rideable climb up a pass where we nabbed CP 10. We were in good spirits as we began our descent, but then at a point where we expected a trail to be on our right, we couldn’t find it, and around 15 minutes of looking around turned nothing up (Rootstock later told us they found the trail but that it was definitely not worth taking). So we decided to take a detour that would cost us an additional eight kilometers of riding, and our bad luck continued when at the bottom of the descent, Tom’s free hub ceased to function, transforming his bike into a scooter with a seat. Tom, Evan, and Kit, our trifecta of bike gurus, immediately assessed that nothing could be done for it, so Tom and I took turns running it on the flats and uphills and coasting it on the downhills for around five miles, until we got back to pavement, where Kit and Evan got the idea to rig up a double tow, which worked marvelously. At this point, it was getting dark and then it started to rain, and our spirits could have dipped with the thought that our race was potentially compromised due to the broken and unrepairable bike, but we stayed calm, telling ourselves we weren’t out of the race until they told us we couldn’t continue, and that we were fortunate to have our families back in Oban likely willing to help us source another bike for Tom. Kit even had some fun filming the entire endeavor (actually, she did three takes, including interviews with Tom), while Evan and I enjoyed picking nicknames for ourselves from among Santa’s reindeer.
At the TA, we were greeted with the less-than-welcome news that we’d have to portage our boats and all our gear an unknown distance up a road to the actual TA at a community center. It turned out to be about a quarter of a mile. On our way in, we saw Sweco roll out on their bikes and we gave them a cheer. We aimed for another quick TA, but ended up taking longer with this one due to having to build our bikes, having to go inside to change and lube, and having to move all our heavy stuff to trucks further uphill along the road. We spent at least 45 minutes here, but got on the road in good spirits and ready for a bike ride. The first bit involved what seemed to be a classic Scottish feature of a narrow paved road definitely not wide enough to allow two cars to pass each other. We got into a good rhythm here and pushed together with the friendly Can Ganny team until CP 9, near a brewery where we were tempted to stop for a cold beer, since it was hot and sunny out. We resisted its siren call and instead did a short climb up a gravel road with a fantastic view of the sea. As a result, we got distracted and missed a turn, and both Can Ganny and Adventure Trophy passed us here. The next section was my favorite of the race – eminently rideable doubletrack and dirt roads with stunning views off to our left of Loch Sunart, interspersed with interactions with an occasional, oddly banged Highland cow. We then had a hike-a-bike section that really wasn’t as unpleasant as I thought it might be, and then a steep but rideable climb up a pass where we nabbed CP 10. We were in good spirits as we began our descent, but then at a point where we expected a trail to be on our right, we couldn’t find it, and around 15 minutes of looking around turned nothing up (Rootstock later told us they found the trail but that it was definitely not worth taking). So we decided to take a detour that would cost us an additional eight kilometers of riding, and our bad luck continued when at the bottom of the descent, Tom’s free hub ceased to function, transforming his bike into a scooter with a seat. Tom, Evan, and Kit, our trifecta of bike gurus, immediately assessed that nothing could be done for it, so Tom and I took turns running it on the flats and uphills and coasting it on the downhills for around five miles, until we got back to pavement, where Kit and Evan got the idea to rig up a double tow, which worked marvelously. At this point, it was getting dark and then it started to rain, and our spirits could have dipped with the thought that our race was potentially compromised due to the broken and unrepairable bike, but we stayed calm, telling ourselves we weren’t out of the race until they told us we couldn’t continue, and that we were fortunate to have our families back in Oban likely willing to help us source another bike for Tom. Kit even had some fun filming the entire endeavor (actually, she did three takes, including interviews with Tom), while Evan and I enjoyed picking nicknames for ourselves from among Santa’s reindeer.
We rolled into the TA right as darkness fell, and had a quick chat with Tom Gibbs about potential next steps, and with race referee Igor Dorotic about time penalties (he ended up giving us a six-hour penalty, though we didn’t know that until after we finished). We also found we would be held at the TA until midnight in order to give the race organizers enough time to haul the kayaks into position at the next TA, and so we actually had time to take a rest and hope a plan could be worked out to get us a bike while we slept. We had an additional buffer as we had a hike and a kayak before we needed our bikes again, giving the race organizers (and, it turned out, our families) enough time to make some magic happen for us. We set up our tents, got a hot meal, and set our alarms for 2 a.m., enough for a three-hour sleep.
All of us slept well except for Evan, whose rest was interrupted by a desperate call from nature. Waking up at 2 a.m. after three hours of sleep wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and we grabbed all our gear we had readied before we went to sleep and went to check out of TA. There, we were told the race staff did not have the time or resources to find us a bike, and so we gave them the email addresses of Kate, Emily, Ashley, and Amanda and hoped one of them would get the SOS early enough to get working on finding a bike for Tom first thing in the morning. Undaunted, we set off into the night, though our initial foray into a trailer park didn’t seem like the most auspicious of beginnings for this stage. Tom and Kit straightened out the nav and found us the trailhead, and we had a quick discussion about whether it was worth it do the 1,500-2,000 meters of climbing over 10 miles necessary to get CPs 12 and 13, given their relatively small time penalties. But the argument that won that day was that, even if it was close to a wash time-wise, doing the hike would allow our crew more time to find and bring us a bike. So we took what looked like somebody’s backyard trail up into the darkness and the swirling mist, until we were above treeline and the trail ended at a swampy moor. At this point, the French team Life Experience passed us, and we followed them as we trudged our way up a valley and then up the steep slopes of Sgurr Dhomhnuill. The gradient was not the best for Kit and we slowed a bit, letting the French team get out of sight. Then, at the top, the wind was very strong and we dived into the rock shelter at the summit to dib and put on all our remaining clothing for the walk down the north side of the mountain. The loose, rocky, extremely steep pitch was cursed by all of us, but by none louder than Evan. Fortunately, it wasn’t that long of a descent, and after crossing a mountain stream, we headed back uphill, this time aiming for the summit of Cam na Nathrach. Again, Kit wasn’t loving the uphills, but we made solid progress and got up there to be greeted by the UK Adventurers running across the ridgeline to us and beating us to CP 13. Then they ran back across the ridge and we watched them with some awe, as we were completely unable to run on that terrain and that far into a physical leg. Back on our own, we debated dropping down of the ridgeline to either our north or south to catch a road, but decided it wasn’t worth another steep decline and instead decided to take a trail along the ridge. It may have been slower but it saved our legs a little bit, and the sun came out again for a few moments, giving us some happy feelings. Eventually, we bottomed out on a gravel road and ran it as much as we could until we reached TA 4, a remote outpost where our paddle gear and kayaks awaited us for a journey down Loch Shiel and the Shiel River.
All of us slept well except for Evan, whose rest was interrupted by a desperate call from nature. Waking up at 2 a.m. after three hours of sleep wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and we grabbed all our gear we had readied before we went to sleep and went to check out of TA. There, we were told the race staff did not have the time or resources to find us a bike, and so we gave them the email addresses of Kate, Emily, Ashley, and Amanda and hoped one of them would get the SOS early enough to get working on finding a bike for Tom first thing in the morning. Undaunted, we set off into the night, though our initial foray into a trailer park didn’t seem like the most auspicious of beginnings for this stage. Tom and Kit straightened out the nav and found us the trailhead, and we had a quick discussion about whether it was worth it do the 1,500-2,000 meters of climbing over 10 miles necessary to get CPs 12 and 13, given their relatively small time penalties. But the argument that won that day was that, even if it was close to a wash time-wise, doing the hike would allow our crew more time to find and bring us a bike. So we took what looked like somebody’s backyard trail up into the darkness and the swirling mist, until we were above treeline and the trail ended at a swampy moor. At this point, the French team Life Experience passed us, and we followed them as we trudged our way up a valley and then up the steep slopes of Sgurr Dhomhnuill. The gradient was not the best for Kit and we slowed a bit, letting the French team get out of sight. Then, at the top, the wind was very strong and we dived into the rock shelter at the summit to dib and put on all our remaining clothing for the walk down the north side of the mountain. The loose, rocky, extremely steep pitch was cursed by all of us, but by none louder than Evan. Fortunately, it wasn’t that long of a descent, and after crossing a mountain stream, we headed back uphill, this time aiming for the summit of Cam na Nathrach. Again, Kit wasn’t loving the uphills, but we made solid progress and got up there to be greeted by the UK Adventurers running across the ridgeline to us and beating us to CP 13. Then they ran back across the ridge and we watched them with some awe, as we were completely unable to run on that terrain and that far into a physical leg. Back on our own, we debated dropping down of the ridgeline to either our north or south to catch a road, but decided it wasn’t worth another steep decline and instead decided to take a trail along the ridge. It may have been slower but it saved our legs a little bit, and the sun came out again for a few moments, giving us some happy feelings. Eventually, we bottomed out on a gravel road and ran it as much as we could until we reached TA 4, a remote outpost where our paddle gear and kayaks awaited us for a journey down Loch Shiel and the Shiel River.
