Hello all and a big I'm sorry for the long delay in posting an update.
I have been in Australia for a couple of weeks now and am in the process of settling in to life in the tropical far north of my country.After securing work and a new place to live I am now going about the business of getting my life in order before deciding on what my plans are for the next year.I have a large debt to pay off here but that should be taken care of in a couple or three months.From there it is trying to figure out a strategy to promote Athletes in Kind in Nth America next year.After 2008 I will not be training as a triathlete anymore but will lean toward the adventure cycling side of life.That is not to say I will never compete in tri's again it's just that there will be no huge amounts of time and money spent on preparing for them.The sport has changed too much and most of the fun has gone for me.
I do have to recover from my injuries though and as it stands right now I'm not able to do too much more than some very short runs and rides.My neck and shoulder are still injured and I am having trouble sleeping due to recurring headaches.I have a limited range of motion in my neck and there is a constant cracking in my neck when I turn it to the right.There is considerable deep tissue injuries through my neck and shoulder which wasn't helped by cracking my head open inside the cargo bay of a 727 at work at the airport the other day.I have a new scar forming but the impact has made my neck pain flare up again.Such is life and I have no doubt that I will be back in shape next year.
I will give you all weekly updates on my life here in Cairns and will start documenting my training in the next installment in the coming week.I plan to race the Double Iron Worlds,Ultraman Canada and possibly one other race next year.After that I will continue my travels south from Penticton to Southern Argentina in Stage one of what will be my Ride Around the World.
Thanks again to those who have shown thier continued support of myself and Athletes in Kind.I would like to be able to present them with a $10,000 check by Ultraman Canada next year so it looks like I'm in for the long haul.Stay tuned to see what happens.
October 23, 2007
October 9, 2007
Day Three:Disaster!
The next morning I was up just before sunrise in order to get everthing ready for an early departure.It took a lot of time to pack everything up but as it was really cold and my fingers didn't want to work at all.I did eventually get it done and fed myself in the process.The only problem now was that the tyre I had fixed the night before had flatted again.I threw all my stuff over the fence into the parking lot to avoid more thorns and then set about finding the other thorn that did the damage and patched the tyre in the growing light.The good news was that there were lots of stars out and the trees were still.The promise of a sunny,wind free day cheered me up no end.I managed to ride off at about 7ish when I figured there was enough light so that even the sleepiest of drivers could see me.
I rode south for a short time before hitting the intersection of Hwys' 97 and 17 where I turned of the hwy and onto the quieter road toward Bridgeport.Without the wind buffeting me to a crawl the road seemed to race under my wheels and after stopping once to take in the view of Lake Pateros in the early morning light.Soon I was passing over that lake on a long scary bridge that provided a good view of the town of Bridgeport.I don't like crossing bridges with my trailer attached as I can't really use any pedestrian sidewalks and I always feel trapped and completely at the mercy of the traffic.Reaching the end of that bridge was a relief as there was very little traffic but on spying civilization I really felt like stopping at a gas station for a coffee to warm me up.I decided against it and pressd on.
The road turned eastward and away from the shelter of the valley walls which meant I was finally being warmed by the suns' rays.I even took off my wind breaker at that point as I was even starting to sweat a bit.That was something new for this trip.I continued heading into the sun for about fifteen miles before hitting another intersection.If I went straight on I would reach Coulee Dam,a right turn would take me south toward Moses Lake.I veered right and continued down Route 17.I was really getting into the mornings' ride now that I was warm and figured I would make up some of the time I had lost over the previous two days.Southward I continued but it wasn't too long before something happened that would change everything.
After years of cycling the roads of many different countries you develop the ability to sense certain things around you while you ride.Generally you can figure out the size of the vehicle that is about to pass you and just how close you think they are to actually hitting you.I've been hit several times in my years on the road and always brace myself for the worst.Today the worst nearly happened.I could here the approach of a vehicle which normally wouldn't be a problem.Drivers so far on my trip had done thier best to give me room and most even passed on the the other side of the road.This time I sensed something different.The sound of the vehicle just got louder and louder as it closed in behind me.Then in an instant I could see,out of the corner of my eye,the front of the vehicle passing my left shoulder only inches away from me.Reflexes took over and I swerved sharply right toward the edge of the road.The pick-up truck was now driving in what shoulder there was and that left me nowhere to go but off the edge of the road and out of control down a steep little hill into a ditch.
It was all so quick and I don't even remember seeing the pickup again and all I know was that it was black.There was no time for anything else but to try and survive the inevitable crash and crash I did.I was knocked off my bike by a tree branch on the way down and that may have helped my personal cause a bit.While my helmet shattered into bits at least I didn't follow my bike a trailer to the bottom of the ditch.I did hear it all happen below me as I slid to a halt on the bank.The sound of my bike hitting the rocks at the bottom and then taking the brunt of my heavily laden trailer was nothing I wanted to hear.After lying still and doing the usual body check for damage I figured that I had escaped without too much damage.Thankfully the weather had caused me to wear several layers of clothes and full gloves so they took the brunt and were suitably shredded.
I slid down the bank to check my gear for damage and the first thing I noticed was a front wheel that didn't look like a front wheel anymore.It was completly potato-chipped!Unhitching my trailer I realised that the rear axle was now bent and useless but the trailer was in good shape(gotta love German engineering).My bike however wasn't.The left brake lever and shifter were broken off,the forks were now facing the wrong way and the left fork was cracked.The rear droppout on the left where my trailer attached to the frame was bent inward and my left pedal didn't turn anymore(to be honest it was nearly toast before the ride).The worst was yet to come as the top tube was now bent and sporting a deep dent with a hole a little bigger than a dime in the middle.I guess the weight of the trailer really did it's worst and all I could do was sit down in the dirt and stare in disbelief and the carnage in front of me.WTF!!!!!
I sat there for quite some time absorbing what had happened and then the realisation hit that my trip was over.I knew that I couldn't afford to buy a new bike and there was no way this one could be fixed.I didn't know how much money was in the donation fund and had no way to check to see if any interest had grown at all among the triathlon community both in Penticton and abroad.I knew the only thing to do was to get back to Penticton and see if any sponsors had come on board.If they had ,I would fly down to Austin and base myself out of my brothers house,training like a madman until it was time to go to Monterrey for the Deca.
I dragged the bike up the hill to the road and then went back for my trailer.Once it was all back on the road I assessed it again and as I was doing that a little truck heading north pulled up and stopped opposite me.A sixtyish year old lady got out of the truck and asked if she could help.It seemed that my face had been cut as well and I was bleeding quite a bit.She asked if I had been hit by a car but I said no and told her my story.She asked if she could take me anywhere and all I could say was that I wanted to go to Canada.She told me that she lived about 25 miles north and she could take me either to Bridgeport to report my accident or to the main hwy to hitch a ride north.I told her where I had camped the night before and she then helped me load all my stuff in the back of her little truck and drove me the 28 miles or so back to where I started the day.
I don't know why I decided to go back to Monse but for some reason it just seemed a familiar place to go.I was very upset and equally confused.All I could do for the moment was to get my tarp out and lie down in the sun and sleep with all my gear spread around me.I woke up about an hour or so later and took stock of my situation.My bike was toast,I was broke and my trip was done.There was no reason to hang around really so I stripped what usefull things I could off my bike and then put it,along with all my torn and bloodied clothes, in the dumpster by the toilets.I then packed my trailer and pushed it to the highway and started hitching back to Penticton.
I was only on the side of the road for about twenty minutes before someone pulled over and offered me a lift to the border.The guy who picked me up was a scruffy guy in his late twenties and he was very sympathetic upon hearing my tales of woe.He tried to cheer me up and told me a little about himself.It was then that I realised how lucky I had been to survive my little crash as the guy who had picked me up was an ex US soldier.A vet of Afganistan and Iraq.He had been shot in Iraq, had been discharged ,and was now living on vets benefits.He told me what it was like to be shot in the back and how he couldn't move for weeks until the spinal surgery that he had enabled him to move again.His life was a constant struggle between trying to find work to support his family and dealing with a life, dependant on the drugs that kept the pain at bay.I was humbled and meeting him helped me put all my problems in perspective.He drove me right up to the border,wished me luck and was gone.Now for my next concern,getting back into Canada.
I had overstayed my visa this trip and had been in Canada illegally for the last ten months.It was such a relief to get out of the country three days earlier without the U.S guys catching on but now that I had to face the Canadian Customs guys I figured I was in trouble.As I was walking through the border I didn't bother waiting in line with all the vehicles and pushed my trailer straight to the front of the line and dropped it on the lawn in front of the first customs booth.The guy there just shook his head and waved me over to the front of the line and asked me what I was doing pushing the trailer through to Canada.I explained my tales of woe to him but all he did was fill out a form and told me I would have to go inside and speak to an Immigration Officer.Damn and double Damn!!
I went in to the immigration office with my tail between my legs hoping that they wouldn't figure out that I had been in the country ten months longer than my visa allowed.The ramafications of being deported were huge and could possibly negatively affect any further trips into Canada and the States for the next few years.I waited my turn and was soon being interviewed by a pretty cheerful immigration guy.He asked what I was up to and why I was going to Penticton. I told him that I was going back to Penticton to collect a bunch of stuff I had left there and to purchase ticket back to Oz.That's when he hit me with the question I didn't want to hear."How long were you in Canada before entering the U.S three days ago?"I nearly died!!"One year",I replied and then he shook his head slowly and blamed some ficticious immigration guy for not stamping my passport properly when I entered the country last.I didn't know what drugs he was on but it does seem that I do indeed have a horseshoe up my butt as after a quick mention that I would be having beers with one of his co-workers in Penticton that night,he stamped my passport for another six months.I actually didn't realise this fact until a couple of days later as I thogh he had only given me ten days.He did tell me that he would be informing the U.S border guys about my overstay and that it wasn't adviseable for me to try to go back through the border again on this trip.With that I breathed a huge sigh of relief and wheeled my trailer down the road and back into Canada.
I again stuck the old thumb out for a ride north to Penticton and thankfully,with the night closing in and the temperature dropping,I was picked up within ten minutes and driven all the way into Penticton where was delivered to Anthonys Pub and back to familiar company.I waited a short time for my mates Dave and Cindy to arrive for the usual Wednesday night chicken wing eating session during nwhich time I drowned my sorrows and entertained them both with my border crossing stories.They are both customs officers on the border and there was no way they though I would get into the States in the first place let alone back into Canada.I was,it seemed,very lucky indeed.After a few beers to dull the ever increasing head and neck pain caused by my crash they took me home and I then started to try to figure out what to do next.
I rode south for a short time before hitting the intersection of Hwys' 97 and 17 where I turned of the hwy and onto the quieter road toward Bridgeport.Without the wind buffeting me to a crawl the road seemed to race under my wheels and after stopping once to take in the view of Lake Pateros in the early morning light.Soon I was passing over that lake on a long scary bridge that provided a good view of the town of Bridgeport.I don't like crossing bridges with my trailer attached as I can't really use any pedestrian sidewalks and I always feel trapped and completely at the mercy of the traffic.Reaching the end of that bridge was a relief as there was very little traffic but on spying civilization I really felt like stopping at a gas station for a coffee to warm me up.I decided against it and pressd on.
The road turned eastward and away from the shelter of the valley walls which meant I was finally being warmed by the suns' rays.I even took off my wind breaker at that point as I was even starting to sweat a bit.That was something new for this trip.I continued heading into the sun for about fifteen miles before hitting another intersection.If I went straight on I would reach Coulee Dam,a right turn would take me south toward Moses Lake.I veered right and continued down Route 17.I was really getting into the mornings' ride now that I was warm and figured I would make up some of the time I had lost over the previous two days.Southward I continued but it wasn't too long before something happened that would change everything.
After years of cycling the roads of many different countries you develop the ability to sense certain things around you while you ride.Generally you can figure out the size of the vehicle that is about to pass you and just how close you think they are to actually hitting you.I've been hit several times in my years on the road and always brace myself for the worst.Today the worst nearly happened.I could here the approach of a vehicle which normally wouldn't be a problem.Drivers so far on my trip had done thier best to give me room and most even passed on the the other side of the road.This time I sensed something different.The sound of the vehicle just got louder and louder as it closed in behind me.Then in an instant I could see,out of the corner of my eye,the front of the vehicle passing my left shoulder only inches away from me.Reflexes took over and I swerved sharply right toward the edge of the road.The pick-up truck was now driving in what shoulder there was and that left me nowhere to go but off the edge of the road and out of control down a steep little hill into a ditch.
It was all so quick and I don't even remember seeing the pickup again and all I know was that it was black.There was no time for anything else but to try and survive the inevitable crash and crash I did.I was knocked off my bike by a tree branch on the way down and that may have helped my personal cause a bit.While my helmet shattered into bits at least I didn't follow my bike a trailer to the bottom of the ditch.I did hear it all happen below me as I slid to a halt on the bank.The sound of my bike hitting the rocks at the bottom and then taking the brunt of my heavily laden trailer was nothing I wanted to hear.After lying still and doing the usual body check for damage I figured that I had escaped without too much damage.Thankfully the weather had caused me to wear several layers of clothes and full gloves so they took the brunt and were suitably shredded.
I slid down the bank to check my gear for damage and the first thing I noticed was a front wheel that didn't look like a front wheel anymore.It was completly potato-chipped!Unhitching my trailer I realised that the rear axle was now bent and useless but the trailer was in good shape(gotta love German engineering).My bike however wasn't.The left brake lever and shifter were broken off,the forks were now facing the wrong way and the left fork was cracked.The rear droppout on the left where my trailer attached to the frame was bent inward and my left pedal didn't turn anymore(to be honest it was nearly toast before the ride).The worst was yet to come as the top tube was now bent and sporting a deep dent with a hole a little bigger than a dime in the middle.I guess the weight of the trailer really did it's worst and all I could do was sit down in the dirt and stare in disbelief and the carnage in front of me.WTF!!!!!
I sat there for quite some time absorbing what had happened and then the realisation hit that my trip was over.I knew that I couldn't afford to buy a new bike and there was no way this one could be fixed.I didn't know how much money was in the donation fund and had no way to check to see if any interest had grown at all among the triathlon community both in Penticton and abroad.I knew the only thing to do was to get back to Penticton and see if any sponsors had come on board.If they had ,I would fly down to Austin and base myself out of my brothers house,training like a madman until it was time to go to Monterrey for the Deca.
I dragged the bike up the hill to the road and then went back for my trailer.Once it was all back on the road I assessed it again and as I was doing that a little truck heading north pulled up and stopped opposite me.A sixtyish year old lady got out of the truck and asked if she could help.It seemed that my face had been cut as well and I was bleeding quite a bit.She asked if I had been hit by a car but I said no and told her my story.She asked if she could take me anywhere and all I could say was that I wanted to go to Canada.She told me that she lived about 25 miles north and she could take me either to Bridgeport to report my accident or to the main hwy to hitch a ride north.I told her where I had camped the night before and she then helped me load all my stuff in the back of her little truck and drove me the 28 miles or so back to where I started the day.
I don't know why I decided to go back to Monse but for some reason it just seemed a familiar place to go.I was very upset and equally confused.All I could do for the moment was to get my tarp out and lie down in the sun and sleep with all my gear spread around me.I woke up about an hour or so later and took stock of my situation.My bike was toast,I was broke and my trip was done.There was no reason to hang around really so I stripped what usefull things I could off my bike and then put it,along with all my torn and bloodied clothes, in the dumpster by the toilets.I then packed my trailer and pushed it to the highway and started hitching back to Penticton.
I was only on the side of the road for about twenty minutes before someone pulled over and offered me a lift to the border.The guy who picked me up was a scruffy guy in his late twenties and he was very sympathetic upon hearing my tales of woe.He tried to cheer me up and told me a little about himself.It was then that I realised how lucky I had been to survive my little crash as the guy who had picked me up was an ex US soldier.A vet of Afganistan and Iraq.He had been shot in Iraq, had been discharged ,and was now living on vets benefits.He told me what it was like to be shot in the back and how he couldn't move for weeks until the spinal surgery that he had enabled him to move again.His life was a constant struggle between trying to find work to support his family and dealing with a life, dependant on the drugs that kept the pain at bay.I was humbled and meeting him helped me put all my problems in perspective.He drove me right up to the border,wished me luck and was gone.Now for my next concern,getting back into Canada.
I had overstayed my visa this trip and had been in Canada illegally for the last ten months.It was such a relief to get out of the country three days earlier without the U.S guys catching on but now that I had to face the Canadian Customs guys I figured I was in trouble.As I was walking through the border I didn't bother waiting in line with all the vehicles and pushed my trailer straight to the front of the line and dropped it on the lawn in front of the first customs booth.The guy there just shook his head and waved me over to the front of the line and asked me what I was doing pushing the trailer through to Canada.I explained my tales of woe to him but all he did was fill out a form and told me I would have to go inside and speak to an Immigration Officer.Damn and double Damn!!
I went in to the immigration office with my tail between my legs hoping that they wouldn't figure out that I had been in the country ten months longer than my visa allowed.The ramafications of being deported were huge and could possibly negatively affect any further trips into Canada and the States for the next few years.I waited my turn and was soon being interviewed by a pretty cheerful immigration guy.He asked what I was up to and why I was going to Penticton. I told him that I was going back to Penticton to collect a bunch of stuff I had left there and to purchase ticket back to Oz.That's when he hit me with the question I didn't want to hear."How long were you in Canada before entering the U.S three days ago?"I nearly died!!"One year",I replied and then he shook his head slowly and blamed some ficticious immigration guy for not stamping my passport properly when I entered the country last.I didn't know what drugs he was on but it does seem that I do indeed have a horseshoe up my butt as after a quick mention that I would be having beers with one of his co-workers in Penticton that night,he stamped my passport for another six months.I actually didn't realise this fact until a couple of days later as I thogh he had only given me ten days.He did tell me that he would be informing the U.S border guys about my overstay and that it wasn't adviseable for me to try to go back through the border again on this trip.With that I breathed a huge sigh of relief and wheeled my trailer down the road and back into Canada.
I again stuck the old thumb out for a ride north to Penticton and thankfully,with the night closing in and the temperature dropping,I was picked up within ten minutes and driven all the way into Penticton where was delivered to Anthonys Pub and back to familiar company.I waited a short time for my mates Dave and Cindy to arrive for the usual Wednesday night chicken wing eating session during nwhich time I drowned my sorrows and entertained them both with my border crossing stories.They are both customs officers on the border and there was no way they though I would get into the States in the first place let alone back into Canada.I was,it seemed,very lucky indeed.After a few beers to dull the ever increasing head and neck pain caused by my crash they took me home and I then started to try to figure out what to do next.
October 7, 2007
Day Two:More wind!!
I woke up a couple of times during the night and was pleased to hear absolutely nothing.No rustling of leaves and no gusting wind to pull at my tent.When my alarm went off at 5:30am though things were different.I dragged myself out of the tent,pulled on my running shoes and climbed the steep bank up to the road by the bridge.Once at road level I was met by a gust of frigid air that had me wishing I was back down the hill nice and warm inside my sleeping bag.However I had to run, so run I did.Nothing special mind you just an easy 45 mins out and back toward Loomis in the west.I had to run up a gentle hill which meant that most of the run back would be downhill and that's always a bonus.The extra bonus was being able to watch the sun rise over the hills on the eastern side of the valley.There were scattered clouds about but looking southward toward Omak I could see that is was considerably darker there than where I was.The wind, it seemed, was pushing that darkness north toward me.Damn!
Back in camp it was a quick breakfast followed by the chore of re-packing everthing.No doubt I would get used to it as I had on previous trips but for now it was a pain.That said ,I was on the road by about 7:45am and soon found myself in suffer-mode as I pedalled into a cold,ever-increasing wind.I was trying to figure out just how fast(or slow) I was going and as I don't have a computer on my bike I had to rely on the mile markers on the road.It was quite a shock when I found out that I was riding along at about ten miles per hour.Now I know it was windy but really,on a good day I can run that fast.It wasn't until my first rest stop when I saw a paper cup roll on by at speed that I realised just how strong the wind must be.Just sitting on the side of the road was an experience and as the cold crept in I had to put on another layer to keep my core temp warm.
Skies darkened and as I rolled through Riverside north of Omak it was evident that it was going to be a race into the wind to Omak if I was to beat the rain.The problem with that is there are a couple of rolling hills on the way through there and standing up to push up a hill is not a option when dragging a trailer.There is just too little control to power through anything.I solidiered on and as I began the descent into the commercial village outside Omak the skies started to break.I made it to the Shell station just in time.
I parked my rig outside and made my way inside the warm, and more importantly, dry truck stop.First thing I needed was coffee-hot and black!Bless the U.S of A, fifty odd cents for a 12oz coffee.What a country!!I settled into a booth and hung my jacket and gloves out to dry with more than one person eyeing me strangely.Seems lycra-tight wearing guys with funny accents aren't the norm around these parts.I held on to the coffee cup with hands still shaking from the cold and watched through the windows as the trees,buffeted by wind and rain, bent under the might of nature.This was going to be a long rest stop.
I struck up a conversation with a trucker who was eating at a nearby table.He laughed when I told him what I was doing but he expressed admiration for all cyclists who were able to get out there in the elements and ride cross-country.We discussed various routes that I might take and he gave me lots of clues about what to expect as I headed south.He even told me that if I wanted he would give a lift all the way to L.A.I mentioned that L.A was a little out of my way but I must say when he pointed out that at least it would be warm down there,I was tempted.We talked for about 40min or so and as he left he told the manager to put whatever I wanted to eat on his tab and then he wished me luck and was gone.Lunch was nice that day.
After eating,chatting to the waitresses and drinking more coffee it was time for me to head out.The rain had stopped for the moment and my next camp wasn't getting any closer with my sitting there so I put all my clothes back on,said my goodbyes and was off again-into the wind.
Being constantly cold is something I was used to when riding in the Andes last year,the difference now though was I was cold and wet.I was hoping that I'd seen the last of the rain for the day and that I would gradually dry off as I was blasted by the wind.It was not to be though.I was riding through a constant spitting for the next hour or so and after passing the hamlet of Mallot I could see another storm rolling up the highway toward me.I spied an heritage point of interest pullout complete with a shelter covering a picnic bench.I rode up and realised that a shelter is not really a shelter when the wind is blowing the rain horizontally.I grapped the tarp from the top of my trailer and wrapped myself up in it,sat on the bench of the picnic table and turned my back to the storm.It was actually a relief as I was warm again all wrapped up like that.The rain didn't last too long and I uncovered myself and headed off down the road again at a blistering ten miles an hour.
The day didn't get any worse and there was to be no more rain.I actually began to enjoy riding along and was now getting used to the slow pace and accepted it as part of the experience.The plan was to get as far south as possible each day but I was behind my schedule already and I wondered how far south I would get if these winds kept blowing for days.I knew my fitness would increase as the days went by so I wasn't really concerned.Timecould be made up later, one way or another.The only problem I was beginning to realise was that if I was to be on the road all day how was I to spread the word about Athlete is Kind.How was I supposed raise money for these guys if I didn't have the time to speak to anyone.The order of importance was always going to be;raise money for AIK(and for the trip);do the Deca Iron;ride to Mexico.If I spent all my time riding to Mexico then sure,I would be fit for the Deca but I wouldn't have the money to do anything afterward and AIK wouldn't have much more than a few hundred dollars to show for it.I would have to think about that at camp that night.
As the day wore on I decided to camp early and while approaching the township of Monse I saw a bridge crossing the river.I figure that where there is a bridge there would be some shelter so when I reached the intersection on the highway I turned off and rode onto the bridge.I stopped and checked out both banks of the river under the bridge.On the far bank I spotted a boat launch area and decided to check it out.It was great.A nice open area with an orchard on two sides,the bridge approach on the northern side and the river flowing slowly at the front.It even had a really clean toilet block ,which is always a good thing.
I spent some time figuring out where would be the best place to camp.There was a great big sign telling me that I was not allowed to camp there so I would have to be sneaky and find some hidden spot to put my tent and equipment for the night.I would also have to wait until just before sunset to do it.As it was still about an two hours before real darkness set in I found a spot on the riverbank ,under a tree and cooked myself some dinner.Pasta and cup of soup again.It was tasty and hot and it soon warmed me up as the light started to fade in the valley.While waiting for the last of the days light to fade I hid all my stuff and did my second run for the day-if you could call it that.I did a quick warm up by running the 800m or so out to the highway and did some drills and stuff on the way back.Once back at the boat launch I did ten hills reps back up to the bridge.Each one was only about 150 meters but at least I did something.
I decided to camp in a pretty secluded spot not far from the toilet block.It was a nice soft area surrounded by trees in a disused part of the orchard.The only problem was that I had to make my way though a whole bunch of vines with very sharp thorns on them.The bike made it through okay but the trailer wheel got a flat thanks to a pesky thorn.At least I would have something to do later that night.I quickly set up my tent and went about getting everything ready for bed and then fixed my flat trailer tyre.
After a bit of journal writing and about half an hour of map studying I decided that I would try for a longer day tomorrow to make up for the miles I was behind schedule right now.I figured I would use tomorrows ride as guide to see if I could make up time or if I would have to change my strategy a bit in order to have the time to raise funds,write on my blog and train for the Deca.I would not run in the morning but try to get away as soon as light permitted.With that I wrapped myself up again in my sleeping bag and fell into a deep sleep after covering 54 miles on another tough day on the road south to Mexico.
Back in camp it was a quick breakfast followed by the chore of re-packing everthing.No doubt I would get used to it as I had on previous trips but for now it was a pain.That said ,I was on the road by about 7:45am and soon found myself in suffer-mode as I pedalled into a cold,ever-increasing wind.I was trying to figure out just how fast(or slow) I was going and as I don't have a computer on my bike I had to rely on the mile markers on the road.It was quite a shock when I found out that I was riding along at about ten miles per hour.Now I know it was windy but really,on a good day I can run that fast.It wasn't until my first rest stop when I saw a paper cup roll on by at speed that I realised just how strong the wind must be.Just sitting on the side of the road was an experience and as the cold crept in I had to put on another layer to keep my core temp warm.
Skies darkened and as I rolled through Riverside north of Omak it was evident that it was going to be a race into the wind to Omak if I was to beat the rain.The problem with that is there are a couple of rolling hills on the way through there and standing up to push up a hill is not a option when dragging a trailer.There is just too little control to power through anything.I solidiered on and as I began the descent into the commercial village outside Omak the skies started to break.I made it to the Shell station just in time.
I parked my rig outside and made my way inside the warm, and more importantly, dry truck stop.First thing I needed was coffee-hot and black!Bless the U.S of A, fifty odd cents for a 12oz coffee.What a country!!I settled into a booth and hung my jacket and gloves out to dry with more than one person eyeing me strangely.Seems lycra-tight wearing guys with funny accents aren't the norm around these parts.I held on to the coffee cup with hands still shaking from the cold and watched through the windows as the trees,buffeted by wind and rain, bent under the might of nature.This was going to be a long rest stop.
I struck up a conversation with a trucker who was eating at a nearby table.He laughed when I told him what I was doing but he expressed admiration for all cyclists who were able to get out there in the elements and ride cross-country.We discussed various routes that I might take and he gave me lots of clues about what to expect as I headed south.He even told me that if I wanted he would give a lift all the way to L.A.I mentioned that L.A was a little out of my way but I must say when he pointed out that at least it would be warm down there,I was tempted.We talked for about 40min or so and as he left he told the manager to put whatever I wanted to eat on his tab and then he wished me luck and was gone.Lunch was nice that day.
After eating,chatting to the waitresses and drinking more coffee it was time for me to head out.The rain had stopped for the moment and my next camp wasn't getting any closer with my sitting there so I put all my clothes back on,said my goodbyes and was off again-into the wind.
Being constantly cold is something I was used to when riding in the Andes last year,the difference now though was I was cold and wet.I was hoping that I'd seen the last of the rain for the day and that I would gradually dry off as I was blasted by the wind.It was not to be though.I was riding through a constant spitting for the next hour or so and after passing the hamlet of Mallot I could see another storm rolling up the highway toward me.I spied an heritage point of interest pullout complete with a shelter covering a picnic bench.I rode up and realised that a shelter is not really a shelter when the wind is blowing the rain horizontally.I grapped the tarp from the top of my trailer and wrapped myself up in it,sat on the bench of the picnic table and turned my back to the storm.It was actually a relief as I was warm again all wrapped up like that.The rain didn't last too long and I uncovered myself and headed off down the road again at a blistering ten miles an hour.
The day didn't get any worse and there was to be no more rain.I actually began to enjoy riding along and was now getting used to the slow pace and accepted it as part of the experience.The plan was to get as far south as possible each day but I was behind my schedule already and I wondered how far south I would get if these winds kept blowing for days.I knew my fitness would increase as the days went by so I wasn't really concerned.Timecould be made up later, one way or another.The only problem I was beginning to realise was that if I was to be on the road all day how was I to spread the word about Athlete is Kind.How was I supposed raise money for these guys if I didn't have the time to speak to anyone.The order of importance was always going to be;raise money for AIK(and for the trip);do the Deca Iron;ride to Mexico.If I spent all my time riding to Mexico then sure,I would be fit for the Deca but I wouldn't have the money to do anything afterward and AIK wouldn't have much more than a few hundred dollars to show for it.I would have to think about that at camp that night.
As the day wore on I decided to camp early and while approaching the township of Monse I saw a bridge crossing the river.I figure that where there is a bridge there would be some shelter so when I reached the intersection on the highway I turned off and rode onto the bridge.I stopped and checked out both banks of the river under the bridge.On the far bank I spotted a boat launch area and decided to check it out.It was great.A nice open area with an orchard on two sides,the bridge approach on the northern side and the river flowing slowly at the front.It even had a really clean toilet block ,which is always a good thing.
I spent some time figuring out where would be the best place to camp.There was a great big sign telling me that I was not allowed to camp there so I would have to be sneaky and find some hidden spot to put my tent and equipment for the night.I would also have to wait until just before sunset to do it.As it was still about an two hours before real darkness set in I found a spot on the riverbank ,under a tree and cooked myself some dinner.Pasta and cup of soup again.It was tasty and hot and it soon warmed me up as the light started to fade in the valley.While waiting for the last of the days light to fade I hid all my stuff and did my second run for the day-if you could call it that.I did a quick warm up by running the 800m or so out to the highway and did some drills and stuff on the way back.Once back at the boat launch I did ten hills reps back up to the bridge.Each one was only about 150 meters but at least I did something.
I decided to camp in a pretty secluded spot not far from the toilet block.It was a nice soft area surrounded by trees in a disused part of the orchard.The only problem was that I had to make my way though a whole bunch of vines with very sharp thorns on them.The bike made it through okay but the trailer wheel got a flat thanks to a pesky thorn.At least I would have something to do later that night.I quickly set up my tent and went about getting everything ready for bed and then fixed my flat trailer tyre.
After a bit of journal writing and about half an hour of map studying I decided that I would try for a longer day tomorrow to make up for the miles I was behind schedule right now.I figured I would use tomorrows ride as guide to see if I could make up time or if I would have to change my strategy a bit in order to have the time to raise funds,write on my blog and train for the Deca.I would not run in the morning but try to get away as soon as light permitted.With that I wrapped myself up again in my sleeping bag and fell into a deep sleep after covering 54 miles on another tough day on the road south to Mexico.
Day One:Into the wind.
After getting all my banking stuff sorted out it was 11am and time for me to head out.I rode off from Peach City Runners in downtown Penticton and casually rolled along Lakeshore drive for a last look at Okanagan lake before heading down the river channel bike path south to the other end of town.I wasn't looking forward to the ride to the U.S border as I had ridden that road so many times in training over the last fourteen years of Ironman summers that I hated it.The wind that had blown in from the south didn't do anything for my enthusiasm either.
Turning down Skaha Lake the wind increased and I was passed by another cyclist out on a training ride.I thought "Oh lord it's going to be a long day" and braced myself against the cold wind.I began to question my fitness as I really struggled down the lake but after a few harsh words to myself and a mental re-adjustment from triathlete to adventure cyclist I settled into a nice slow rhythm and steadily made my way south,even passing that other cyclist in the process.I passed another couple of cyclists along the way and my mood improved somewhat and gave me a bit more faith in my fitness.The snow on the surrounding mountains,however made me realise that I should have left about ten days earlier.Who knows what sort of frigid weather I wouldbe in for once I hit the Rockies to the south.I hate cold weather!!!
Normally this section would take me just under two hours when out training but today it was three hours twenty minutes before I hit the Husky station which marks the turn up toward Richter pass on the Ironman Canada course.Very slow indeed.I guess riding my fendered mountain bike dragging my fully laden trailer was going to be a test of patience as long as the wind blew like that.
I pit stopped in the Husky and tried to spend the last of my Canadian dollars on extra treats to eat along the way.Next,it was a quick trip into Osoyoos to buy a small pot and cup to cook with.I would only cook at night and as it was only me I didn't need a big one.I also got a small notebook(for my journal),a pen,some batteries and two lighters which are essential if I wanted to light my little gas camp stove.With all that sorted it was off to the border and into the States.
The border crossing at Osoyoos was busy and I lined up behind the cars breathing in exhaust while awaiting my fate.Once at the front of the line my passport was scanned and I was ordered into the offices to ask for my ninety day visa.The immiragation guys were pretty nice about it all but really couldn't believe I was about to make the trip to the Mexican border.Upon learning that I have a brother who is a permanent US resident they seemed happy and than checked out my two Australian credit cards which, by the way, are totally useless as they were maxed out a very long time ago.I only got them for my Sth America trip and I still owe a lot of money on them.The immigration guys were not to know that and after paying my $6US visa charge they sent me on my way with a grand total of $9US in my pocket.Sometimes I even surprise myself at the stupidity of the situations I get myself into but then it wouldn't be an adventure if everything was organised and easy now would it?
Once through the border it was head down and into the ever increasing wind which was blowing straight up Hwy 97 from the south.Looking down at my gears I prayed that I wouldn't actually have to shift to my small chainring for the rest of the day.The trees bending over double along the side of the road made me think I might just have to.All I hoped was that the threat of rain was just that and I would manage to stay dry for the day.Thankfully I did.
My plan for the trip was to get up before sunrise and go for a easy 45-60min run.That would be followed by a quick breakfast of cold porridge mixed with IronFuel.I would then break camp and ride from about 8am until 5pm/ish with breaks when I would start to look for a suitable campsite for the night.Every other day I would throw in a second shorter but more intense run of intervals or hill reps.Every day I would do my swim training by using my swim bands that I had carried for years.Swimming isn't something I worry about and I knew I would be fine with just the dry land version with the occaisional trip to a pool along the way.
After about 90 mins of riding south of the border I decided that I had done enough riding into the wind.Day one was all about just getting into the States and I had managed it happily.It was time to find a camp and take stock of my situation.I happened upon a small hamlet called Ellisforde which is about 19miles past the border.I turned off the highway toward Loomis and within a couple of minutes happend upon a dirt road which headed off into wooded area next to a bridge spanning the Okanogan River(different spelling in the States).I followed it to it's end and found myself in the perfect little hidden campsite right by the river.Awesome!
I quickly unpacked my trailer and set up my little tent and ten set about covering the tent with my extra tarp.I had found,during a ride through the Canadian Rockies in July,that it was a smart idea to cover my tent with an extra layer as keeping dry was a huge priority.The storms I had survived dry while stuck on Rogers Pass and Kicking Horse Pass on consecutive nights last summer proved my theory correct.I always carry a spare tarp strapped to the outside of my trailer when I travel now.It makes for a great,instant shelter.
After setting up camp I spent some time on the riverbank cooking my pasta dinner while watching the sun set behind a small mountain in the distance on the other side of the river.It was a very peacefull place and I was excited to be on the road again living the life of a traveller.If I am to be alone in this world I want it to be living life and then sharing it with the world through my journals.Starting my journal was the last thing I did that night as I lay snug and warm inside my sleeping bag.I reflected on the day and wondered what fate would have in store for me over the coming weeks.I also thought about why I was out here in the first place.I really wanted to go to the Deca(have done for years) and was honoured to be able to do it in the name of a great charity.I just wondered if people would understand if I told of the real reason I am pushing myself like this.I doubted it, but one day I will write it down and maybe it will help others who are going through the same thing.For now,with about 59 miles behind me that day,I thought I'd just deal with the task at hand.So with the my watch chirping a seven o'clock reminder,I turned off my headlamp and closed my eyes on day one of my lastest adventure.
Turning down Skaha Lake the wind increased and I was passed by another cyclist out on a training ride.I thought "Oh lord it's going to be a long day" and braced myself against the cold wind.I began to question my fitness as I really struggled down the lake but after a few harsh words to myself and a mental re-adjustment from triathlete to adventure cyclist I settled into a nice slow rhythm and steadily made my way south,even passing that other cyclist in the process.I passed another couple of cyclists along the way and my mood improved somewhat and gave me a bit more faith in my fitness.The snow on the surrounding mountains,however made me realise that I should have left about ten days earlier.Who knows what sort of frigid weather I wouldbe in for once I hit the Rockies to the south.I hate cold weather!!!
Normally this section would take me just under two hours when out training but today it was three hours twenty minutes before I hit the Husky station which marks the turn up toward Richter pass on the Ironman Canada course.Very slow indeed.I guess riding my fendered mountain bike dragging my fully laden trailer was going to be a test of patience as long as the wind blew like that.
I pit stopped in the Husky and tried to spend the last of my Canadian dollars on extra treats to eat along the way.Next,it was a quick trip into Osoyoos to buy a small pot and cup to cook with.I would only cook at night and as it was only me I didn't need a big one.I also got a small notebook(for my journal),a pen,some batteries and two lighters which are essential if I wanted to light my little gas camp stove.With all that sorted it was off to the border and into the States.
The border crossing at Osoyoos was busy and I lined up behind the cars breathing in exhaust while awaiting my fate.Once at the front of the line my passport was scanned and I was ordered into the offices to ask for my ninety day visa.The immiragation guys were pretty nice about it all but really couldn't believe I was about to make the trip to the Mexican border.Upon learning that I have a brother who is a permanent US resident they seemed happy and than checked out my two Australian credit cards which, by the way, are totally useless as they were maxed out a very long time ago.I only got them for my Sth America trip and I still owe a lot of money on them.The immigration guys were not to know that and after paying my $6US visa charge they sent me on my way with a grand total of $9US in my pocket.Sometimes I even surprise myself at the stupidity of the situations I get myself into but then it wouldn't be an adventure if everything was organised and easy now would it?
Once through the border it was head down and into the ever increasing wind which was blowing straight up Hwy 97 from the south.Looking down at my gears I prayed that I wouldn't actually have to shift to my small chainring for the rest of the day.The trees bending over double along the side of the road made me think I might just have to.All I hoped was that the threat of rain was just that and I would manage to stay dry for the day.Thankfully I did.
My plan for the trip was to get up before sunrise and go for a easy 45-60min run.That would be followed by a quick breakfast of cold porridge mixed with IronFuel.I would then break camp and ride from about 8am until 5pm/ish with breaks when I would start to look for a suitable campsite for the night.Every other day I would throw in a second shorter but more intense run of intervals or hill reps.Every day I would do my swim training by using my swim bands that I had carried for years.Swimming isn't something I worry about and I knew I would be fine with just the dry land version with the occaisional trip to a pool along the way.
After about 90 mins of riding south of the border I decided that I had done enough riding into the wind.Day one was all about just getting into the States and I had managed it happily.It was time to find a camp and take stock of my situation.I happened upon a small hamlet called Ellisforde which is about 19miles past the border.I turned off the highway toward Loomis and within a couple of minutes happend upon a dirt road which headed off into wooded area next to a bridge spanning the Okanogan River(different spelling in the States).I followed it to it's end and found myself in the perfect little hidden campsite right by the river.Awesome!
I quickly unpacked my trailer and set up my little tent and ten set about covering the tent with my extra tarp.I had found,during a ride through the Canadian Rockies in July,that it was a smart idea to cover my tent with an extra layer as keeping dry was a huge priority.The storms I had survived dry while stuck on Rogers Pass and Kicking Horse Pass on consecutive nights last summer proved my theory correct.I always carry a spare tarp strapped to the outside of my trailer when I travel now.It makes for a great,instant shelter.
After setting up camp I spent some time on the riverbank cooking my pasta dinner while watching the sun set behind a small mountain in the distance on the other side of the river.It was a very peacefull place and I was excited to be on the road again living the life of a traveller.If I am to be alone in this world I want it to be living life and then sharing it with the world through my journals.Starting my journal was the last thing I did that night as I lay snug and warm inside my sleeping bag.I reflected on the day and wondered what fate would have in store for me over the coming weeks.I also thought about why I was out here in the first place.I really wanted to go to the Deca(have done for years) and was honoured to be able to do it in the name of a great charity.I just wondered if people would understand if I told of the real reason I am pushing myself like this.I doubted it, but one day I will write it down and maybe it will help others who are going through the same thing.For now,with about 59 miles behind me that day,I thought I'd just deal with the task at hand.So with the my watch chirping a seven o'clock reminder,I turned off my headlamp and closed my eyes on day one of my lastest adventure.
Preparation.Fundraising and other fun stuff.
My planned Saturday departure from Penticton was delayed by a couple of days due to some admin work that had to be done.I had to be sure that all my bank accounts were linked to my new PayPal account and that my Canadian bank card would work in the States.This trip is being done on the most meager of budgets and it wouldn't do to be stuck in the States without access to any funds.As it was ,what money I do have came in the form of a cheque which covered the last five weeks or so of work in Penticton.That cheque would not be cleared for another few days leaving me with $15US in total to present the U.S immigration if asked to show funds.That was not a prospect I was looking forward to.
The budget for the ride was set at about $10US a day with an inevitable mini crisis along the way expected to drain all the reserves that I had($500US).The entry fee for the Deca is $1500US which was reduced for me by the race director to $1000US,so with my cheque clearing(hopefully) I would have enough for the entry and the trip itself.I had struck an agreement with Lorie Muller, the director of my chosen charity for this adventure(Athletes in Kind), that the first $1000US would go toward the entry fee as well as some expences.The remainder of funds raised for the rest of the year would go to A.I.K.That eased my worries a bit and I started the fundraising drive a week before my departure.
I launched my funraising on a couple of triathlon websites which have huge followings as well as spreading the word around Penticton and around the world via email to all my triathlon connections and friends.Donations were pretty quick to roll in via the Slowtwitch community but that was short-lived with only a half dozen or so people jumping on the bandwagon.By the time I left Penticton after my week of pushing the A.I.K cause the donation total was at a paltry $273US.I had,of course a lot of promises of cash to be sent at a later date and I was hopefull that a soon as I was underway the interest would grow.
I had received support from a few people in the triathlon community in the States and was very humbled to find the race director of the Rockman Half Ironman offering to send a sizeable donation to a friends bike store in Austin as well as giving a free entry into his 2008 Half Iron Triathlon for anyone who donated $200US or more.A triathlete from Albequerque also offered assistance in the form of a place to stay and a base where I could ship all my A.I.K gear which I would pick up along the way.It was great to be getting some support from the triathletes in the States and I thank Chip, a.k.a Record10Carbon and Adam, a.k.a IronLobo(both from Slowtwitch.com)for their interest and help.
So now it was time to ride.I packed my trailer with just the bare essentials as far as clothing and luxuries went and loaded it up with food.I have a nutrition sponsor for my races and I had a whole bunch of their product(IronFuel) left over from the summer.That IronFuel load amounted to just over 4kilos(9lbs) of powdered energy which I would mix at every day-time meal with ten grain porridge mix as well as trail mix and dried fruit.Dinner was to be pasta flavoured with different varieties of cup-of-soup.I had about 150 electrolyte tabs left over from summer so they would be a great help in keeping me going on my long trip south.Muslie bars would be treats along the way.I figured I had enough nutrition to get me about eight to ten days down the road where I would stock up again.This was certainly easier to plan for than the nutrition on my trip through St America the previous year.
With one last huge meal with my dear friends Steve and Maria Brown I loaded up my already growing belly and was set to ride out mid morning on Monday the 1st October.
The budget for the ride was set at about $10US a day with an inevitable mini crisis along the way expected to drain all the reserves that I had($500US).The entry fee for the Deca is $1500US which was reduced for me by the race director to $1000US,so with my cheque clearing(hopefully) I would have enough for the entry and the trip itself.I had struck an agreement with Lorie Muller, the director of my chosen charity for this adventure(Athletes in Kind), that the first $1000US would go toward the entry fee as well as some expences.The remainder of funds raised for the rest of the year would go to A.I.K.That eased my worries a bit and I started the fundraising drive a week before my departure.
I launched my funraising on a couple of triathlon websites which have huge followings as well as spreading the word around Penticton and around the world via email to all my triathlon connections and friends.Donations were pretty quick to roll in via the Slowtwitch community but that was short-lived with only a half dozen or so people jumping on the bandwagon.By the time I left Penticton after my week of pushing the A.I.K cause the donation total was at a paltry $273US.I had,of course a lot of promises of cash to be sent at a later date and I was hopefull that a soon as I was underway the interest would grow.
I had received support from a few people in the triathlon community in the States and was very humbled to find the race director of the Rockman Half Ironman offering to send a sizeable donation to a friends bike store in Austin as well as giving a free entry into his 2008 Half Iron Triathlon for anyone who donated $200US or more.A triathlete from Albequerque also offered assistance in the form of a place to stay and a base where I could ship all my A.I.K gear which I would pick up along the way.It was great to be getting some support from the triathletes in the States and I thank Chip, a.k.a Record10Carbon and Adam, a.k.a IronLobo(both from Slowtwitch.com)for their interest and help.
So now it was time to ride.I packed my trailer with just the bare essentials as far as clothing and luxuries went and loaded it up with food.I have a nutrition sponsor for my races and I had a whole bunch of their product(IronFuel) left over from the summer.That IronFuel load amounted to just over 4kilos(9lbs) of powdered energy which I would mix at every day-time meal with ten grain porridge mix as well as trail mix and dried fruit.Dinner was to be pasta flavoured with different varieties of cup-of-soup.I had about 150 electrolyte tabs left over from summer so they would be a great help in keeping me going on my long trip south.Muslie bars would be treats along the way.I figured I had enough nutrition to get me about eight to ten days down the road where I would stock up again.This was certainly easier to plan for than the nutrition on my trip through St America the previous year.
With one last huge meal with my dear friends Steve and Maria Brown I loaded up my already growing belly and was set to ride out mid morning on Monday the 1st October.
September 26, 2007
A little history for you all.
I often get asked why and more importantly how I go about doing all this Ultra stuff that I do.It seems that most people think it's crazy and will eventually lead to my early demise after some sort of physical breakdown.Now you all must understand that I,like the rest of the planet,thought that the whole Julie Moss at Ironman Hawaii thing,was just amazing and was truly inspired to one day reach that highest of highs and finish an Ironman.That was twenty five years ago when I saw the T.V coverage during one particularly boring afternoon shift working as a busboy in the public bar of the Sydney Hilton in Australia.I had run track and cross country at high school and was on the school swim team so I figured that this crazy event would be achievable for me.That was until I discovered girls and alcohol.Suffice it to say my athletic accomplishments were then confined to the chasing of various young females around numerous bars in Sydneys Kings Cross district.
Years passed and I moved on and up to the tropical city of Cairns in far north Australia where after one crazy trip down Austalias' east coast by bike I started competing with the local triathlon club.I remember the day I was able to ride for an hour at an average speed of 30kph(18.75mph).I was a legend in my own lunchtime!Little did I know that eight years later I would be able to hold that speed,and more,for two hundred miles while cruising toward my first Ultraman win.
It wasn't until 1991 that I made it to the start line of an Ironman.It was Ironman Canada and and Lloyd Wallington friend of mine had convinced me, eight weeks before the event, that I should go with him to Canada.He dragged my sorry ass all over the hills around Cairns in training and for seven weeks I suffered like a dog.Race day in Penticton arrived and I managed to cross the line in 11:48ish(I don't remember the exact time).That was all it took,I was an Ironman and I was hooked.
I returned to Penticton in 1993 and soon I was well and truly part of the Ironman fold thinking that I had reached the pinnacle of athletic achievement for an average Joe.That was until I met Tom Price.He was the two-time winner of Ironman Canada and had been invited to come up to Penticton to race Ultraman Canada.I,along with my girlfriend Leisa and best mate Mori, were asked to crew for him.What happened that weekend changed my view of what is humanly possible.We met Tom the day before the race and he was a very nice chap.Very intense but nice.He told us what he needed us to do and left us no doubt that we were not to stray from his instructions.He was so professional in how he went about that weekend it amazed me.History will show that Tom won Ultraman that year and we have remained friends to this day.His race plan and preparation have been the blueprint for evey race I have done since.
The following year Tom was supposed to return to defend his title and we were lined up to crew again but as result of the huge fires burning around the district Tom decided, for health reasons not to come.I was then asked, after a drunken Margarita Thursday at the local pub, if I would step in and race in his place.Stupidly I said "sure why not"!!We had all the sponsorship in place and so with 30 hours notice and with just my Ironman training behind me I lined up for my first Ultraman Canada Triathlon.I managed to win the whole thing that weekend but truth be known if local legend Steve King could swim at all he would have won.It is however a three sport event and he would have to settle for second place.He did kick my butt in the run though.Again my Ultraman experience found me another friend and mentor.Steve is never far from what I'm up to in the world of all things Ultra.
I started meeting all kinds of triathletes from all over the world and of all talent levels from the pros to the back of the pack guys.I also started meeting some guys who where into the long stuff.I mean,the really long stuff.I soon found out about Double Ironman,Triple Ironman,The Deca,RAAM and the Trans-America Footrace.I couldn't believe that it was possible but over the next few years I got to hang out with,drink with,train and race with some of the best Ultra-endurance athetes in the world.Suddenly Ironman wasn't the hardest thing in the world.There was more,way more.
My perception changed and I started reading every book I could find on Everest expeditions,Polar exploration and adventure travel and again the degree of suffering the human mind,body and spirit are capable of was shown to me in the pages of those books.I started to think that maybe I was one of those people and and after watching an English mate of mine train for and race the Deca Ironman in the mid '90s I decided that was one race I would have to do.He ended up breaking the world record for that race but was still fourth overall.His time still stands as the Great Britain record and he would go on to complete the Trans-Australia footrace,win the last ever held Trans America footrace and than run accross Europe.He only has to run from the Russian border to Singapore and he will have run around the world.His name is Bobby Brown and he is a dead set legend.
You can't help but be changed when you meet these people and that was evident when I was sitting in a lab at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver with Deca Ironman champ,Erik Seedhouse and Ultraman Canada and Hawaii champ Tracy Preston.We were talking about the extreme sport fad and Erik bluntly told us that is his opinion a sport is not extreme unlees you are standing at the startline without actually knowing whether you would live through it.Now that was cool.Again it was all about perception.He had risked life and limb climbing the highest peaks of the world and so to him it took a lot before his mind gave in to defeat.That was the one attutude that truly has stayed with me all these years.If your mind stays strong you can keep going when most would stop.
This is how I live now.I am not an elite athlete by any stretch of the imagination but what I am is strong.I love to hurt,I love to suffer and I love show others just what is possible if you only have a bit of faith in yourself and the courage to try.
Years passed and I moved on and up to the tropical city of Cairns in far north Australia where after one crazy trip down Austalias' east coast by bike I started competing with the local triathlon club.I remember the day I was able to ride for an hour at an average speed of 30kph(18.75mph).I was a legend in my own lunchtime!Little did I know that eight years later I would be able to hold that speed,and more,for two hundred miles while cruising toward my first Ultraman win.
It wasn't until 1991 that I made it to the start line of an Ironman.It was Ironman Canada and and Lloyd Wallington friend of mine had convinced me, eight weeks before the event, that I should go with him to Canada.He dragged my sorry ass all over the hills around Cairns in training and for seven weeks I suffered like a dog.Race day in Penticton arrived and I managed to cross the line in 11:48ish(I don't remember the exact time).That was all it took,I was an Ironman and I was hooked.
I returned to Penticton in 1993 and soon I was well and truly part of the Ironman fold thinking that I had reached the pinnacle of athletic achievement for an average Joe.That was until I met Tom Price.He was the two-time winner of Ironman Canada and had been invited to come up to Penticton to race Ultraman Canada.I,along with my girlfriend Leisa and best mate Mori, were asked to crew for him.What happened that weekend changed my view of what is humanly possible.We met Tom the day before the race and he was a very nice chap.Very intense but nice.He told us what he needed us to do and left us no doubt that we were not to stray from his instructions.He was so professional in how he went about that weekend it amazed me.History will show that Tom won Ultraman that year and we have remained friends to this day.His race plan and preparation have been the blueprint for evey race I have done since.
The following year Tom was supposed to return to defend his title and we were lined up to crew again but as result of the huge fires burning around the district Tom decided, for health reasons not to come.I was then asked, after a drunken Margarita Thursday at the local pub, if I would step in and race in his place.Stupidly I said "sure why not"!!We had all the sponsorship in place and so with 30 hours notice and with just my Ironman training behind me I lined up for my first Ultraman Canada Triathlon.I managed to win the whole thing that weekend but truth be known if local legend Steve King could swim at all he would have won.It is however a three sport event and he would have to settle for second place.He did kick my butt in the run though.Again my Ultraman experience found me another friend and mentor.Steve is never far from what I'm up to in the world of all things Ultra.
I started meeting all kinds of triathletes from all over the world and of all talent levels from the pros to the back of the pack guys.I also started meeting some guys who where into the long stuff.I mean,the really long stuff.I soon found out about Double Ironman,Triple Ironman,The Deca,RAAM and the Trans-America Footrace.I couldn't believe that it was possible but over the next few years I got to hang out with,drink with,train and race with some of the best Ultra-endurance athetes in the world.Suddenly Ironman wasn't the hardest thing in the world.There was more,way more.
My perception changed and I started reading every book I could find on Everest expeditions,Polar exploration and adventure travel and again the degree of suffering the human mind,body and spirit are capable of was shown to me in the pages of those books.I started to think that maybe I was one of those people and and after watching an English mate of mine train for and race the Deca Ironman in the mid '90s I decided that was one race I would have to do.He ended up breaking the world record for that race but was still fourth overall.His time still stands as the Great Britain record and he would go on to complete the Trans-Australia footrace,win the last ever held Trans America footrace and than run accross Europe.He only has to run from the Russian border to Singapore and he will have run around the world.His name is Bobby Brown and he is a dead set legend.
You can't help but be changed when you meet these people and that was evident when I was sitting in a lab at Simon Fraser University in Vancouver with Deca Ironman champ,Erik Seedhouse and Ultraman Canada and Hawaii champ Tracy Preston.We were talking about the extreme sport fad and Erik bluntly told us that is his opinion a sport is not extreme unlees you are standing at the startline without actually knowing whether you would live through it.Now that was cool.Again it was all about perception.He had risked life and limb climbing the highest peaks of the world and so to him it took a lot before his mind gave in to defeat.That was the one attutude that truly has stayed with me all these years.If your mind stays strong you can keep going when most would stop.
This is how I live now.I am not an elite athlete by any stretch of the imagination but what I am is strong.I love to hurt,I love to suffer and I love show others just what is possible if you only have a bit of faith in yourself and the courage to try.
September 25, 2007
A new adventure begins
Greetings all.It's time once agagin for me to dust off the old MTB and hitch up the trailer for another adventure on the road.This time however there are a couple of differences to the last time I was out there doing what I do.The first difference is that I am really pressed for time.I have one month to ride from Penticton B.C to Leredo Texas in time to be picked up and taken to Monterrey in Mexico to compete in the Deca-Ironman World Challenge.The race begins on November 5th and is a ten Ironman stage race with an Iron distance race each day for ten days.The lowest accumulated time over the ten days wins.Sounds simple enough-yeah right!!
The distance I have to ride is about 4000k(2500miles) and I will be passing through the border just south of Penticton B.C and heading through Boise,Salt Lake City,Albuquerque,Austin and then Laredo.That works out to about 125k(78miles)a day for 32 days plus doing my run and swim training as well.All things being equal that shouldn't be a problem if riding was all I was doing.The other thing not as yet mentioned is that I also have to dedicate time toward the newest challenge in my life.My year as a charity fundraiser.
During the 2007 running of Ultraman Canada we were all introduced to a small charitable group called "Althetes in Kind".This group, based in Pitt Meadows just outside of Vancouver,raises money for the families of those who are affected by the huge financial burden of a family member fighting cancer.I was very impressed with "Team Athletes in Kind" and the charitys' founder Lorie Muller.After reading through the Athletes in Kind website I figured it was time that I actually got off my lazy butt and tried to do something worthwhile for a change.To that end I have promised Lorie that I would dedicate the next year to raising money for,and the profile of, Athletes in Kind.The road to the Deca-Iron and the event itself is the first stage of a whole year of trans-continental cycling and Ultra-triathlon competition ending with Ultraman Canada in 2008.
So sit back,relax and follow along as I head out for anothers of Nick's Ultra adventures.Keep your fingers crossed and you credit cards handy 'cause here we go again!
The distance I have to ride is about 4000k(2500miles) and I will be passing through the border just south of Penticton B.C and heading through Boise,Salt Lake City,Albuquerque,Austin and then Laredo.That works out to about 125k(78miles)a day for 32 days plus doing my run and swim training as well.All things being equal that shouldn't be a problem if riding was all I was doing.The other thing not as yet mentioned is that I also have to dedicate time toward the newest challenge in my life.My year as a charity fundraiser.
During the 2007 running of Ultraman Canada we were all introduced to a small charitable group called "Althetes in Kind".This group, based in Pitt Meadows just outside of Vancouver,raises money for the families of those who are affected by the huge financial burden of a family member fighting cancer.I was very impressed with "Team Athletes in Kind" and the charitys' founder Lorie Muller.After reading through the Athletes in Kind website I figured it was time that I actually got off my lazy butt and tried to do something worthwhile for a change.To that end I have promised Lorie that I would dedicate the next year to raising money for,and the profile of, Athletes in Kind.The road to the Deca-Iron and the event itself is the first stage of a whole year of trans-continental cycling and Ultra-triathlon competition ending with Ultraman Canada in 2008.
So sit back,relax and follow along as I head out for anothers of Nick's Ultra adventures.Keep your fingers crossed and you credit cards handy 'cause here we go again!
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