Stage 2 starts at 7:30 so that means a 5:30 alarm. 2 hours is just enough to time to do everything that needs to be done. First up is coffee. Someone has already put a big pot of water on to boil so I make some coffee and top up the water. Race kit goes on and night bag gets packed away. After coffee its time to eat. I have packed 800kcal Expedition food breakfasts. They’re the same ones that I had during MdS and whilst I know by the end of the week they will be difficult to get down I know I can. In between mouthfuls I tape up my feet. They are in good shape from yesterday with only a small blister on the second toes of each foot. With those toes taped I also apply some K-Tape to my heals which had a lot of rubbing yesterday from the snowshoes but luckily didn’t blister. The coffee has kicked started the system so I visit the loo in the surprisingly nice outhouses. Last kit prep, the days food into my running belt and water bottles filled with water and the next thing I know we are outside at the race brief.
Its cold again at the start line. I’m only in two layers but I know I will warm up. I have my hat, neck warmer and extra gloves on which I can peel off as I get moving. Kris gives us the brief on the stage. The main feature of the course is Mount Kabla. He tells us the distances to the check points which I quickly learn to take as rough estimates after getting irrationally angry when finding a check point is actually 12km away instead of 10km.
We set off back through the forest we arrived in, this time turning left downhill onto a frozen lake. The 2.5km across the lake gives me time to settle into my pace. My heels are bruised but they quickly settle down and I feel good. The night together in the cabin has given me an opportunity to put names to faces. James won stage 1, Alex was second and has blazed out front today. JJ finished just in front of me on Stage 1 and Bert just behind.
After a small climb through some woods we arrive into check point 1. Alex, Bert and JJ are in front and as I come out for the tent with my re-filled water bottles George arrived into the tent. The air is cold so everyone has icicles on their eyelashes and exposed hair. With Georges long hair behind a headband there is more than a little viking to his appearance and straight after the checkpoint he absolutely flies past past me. I wonder if he is either going to blow up or if he was just keeping his powder dry yesterday.
The lake crossing after checkpoint 1 is really eerie. Nicknamed Rising Lake by the team the ice is pushed up into jagged rifts. We’re warned that since it is moving don’t be suprised if you hear strange noises as you cross. Which a thin mist coloured pink by the low morning sun it is staggeringly beautiful and makes a change to the flat featureless lakes we have been on so far.
Checkpoint 3 lies halfway up the Kabla climb, we break out of the treeline and see the teepee. The wind is suddenly screaming accross the snow from the right and though the sun is shining its cold. More surprising to me is seeing yesterdays stage winner a short distance in front of me. I go inside the teepee this time, ask for a bottle refill and put on my wind and waterproof layer, a neck buff and switch my sunglasses for goggles in preparation for the mountain. I’m in and out quickly and set off powering up the climb, I passed James soon after the checkpoint and would later find out that he injured his achilles the day before.
The climb is hard, very steep, with countless false horizons on the way up. The wind is also blasting us, with spindrift blowing across the surface covering the track with soft snow mounds. Kris goes by on a snowbike shouting a warning to make sure we leave no skin exposed. I’m currently wearing 2 pairs of gloves but I can feel my hands getting cold so I pull out my down mitts and put them over the top. If there is one piece of advice I could give about kit changes its act quickly. As soon as you feel cold or hot, make the change.
I’m moving well on the climb and feel like a proper arctic explorer looking out through my goggles. The world is a cheerier place through the pink lenses of the goggles than the grey of my sunglasses and the views are staggering. To my left I can see for miles, with tree coved hill tops poking out the top of the clouds. Behind me, the frozen lake we crossed previous is smudged out for view by a thin mist and to my right great, bare, snow covered mountains sit against the blue sky. I would like to stop and enjoy the view or get my camera out except, I’ll probably freeze and I have passed George on the climb so should really keep pushing. Although I’m trying not to think too much about my position but I think I’m in third.
With the climb complete we start a more gradual descent down the other side. There is still a high wind chill but it feels less exposed. I hear footsteps behind me and George pulls alongside. With a smile he bemoans not having my long legs before apologising for legging it off he bounds his way down the hill.
After descending a little further I decide that I can probably risk going for the pee that have needed for a while without anything important freezing in the cold. It’ll never stop surprising me how tactical you become with toilet stops during an ultra…
With CP 3 reached and the course entering the treeline again. I realise I’m hungry having not fed on Kabla due to face masks and gloves. I decided to try to eat on the go and remove my big gloves in order to open a Tailwind sachet and eat my shortbread. I get into a bit of a muddle with poles and gloves and it takes way longer than it really should. Eventually I get sorted and stuff my down mitts into a strap pocket on my backpack rather than rolling them up and pushing them all the way in, but they feel pretty secure and I would notice if one fell out, right?
There is still 18km to go on the stage and I’m feeling pretty beaten up. I continue to run the flats and walk the ups but my concept of distance and time is being savagely torn up. In my mind , in the normal world, 10km is about an hour of running, so 18k should be over in less than two. But we are not in the normal world, we are in snowshoe territory and even running I’m lucking if I’m doing less than 9:30 per km, so 10km is an hour and half at best. I find this quite demoralising along with the constant looking over my shoulder to see if I’m being caught. I really don’t want to compete and certainly didn’t come here to compete. My aim is always to finish the race and give a good account of myself. I certainly don’t want to get to the end and fell like I had way more to give but none of my goals feature anybody else, yet I can’t seem to ignore the little competition monster in my head and it is ruining my enjoyment of the race. I’m not taking the time to look up and take in my surroundings. I make a decision there and then not to look over my shoulder again.
I hit the 40km marker, I can see Bert in front of me now and there should be about 2km left to go. Its undulating downhill through forests and the kilometres tick down slowly. The stage we are told is 42.5kmand as 42km ticks up on my watch I’m really not feeling like we are anywhere near there lake that I know we are staying on. The course just seems to keep going and as I start to get cross I suddenly notice a rapid drop in temperature, like stepping into an industrial freezer. All of a sudden may hands feel cold and require my middle layer gloves immediately. Oddly this has the effect of cheering me up since these rapid temperature drops usually indicate a lake as the cold air on the mountains sinks and piles up on the flat like surface. I exit the woods and see cabins on a small outcrop by the side of the lake. I round a corner where Alex has come down and taken a video of me arriving and tells me its just a few hundred metres to the ‘line’. I follow the course poles which once again uncermoniously stop near a random door. This time Jenny is there to greet me with her customary hug. I can’t help but ask where the finish line is again and this time joking draw one in the snow with my pole. Stage 2 is finished after 43.5km and 900m of climbing and I have come 4th again, something I am trying hard not to care about.
Placing highly does have its benefits. I get first dibs on bunks in my cabin and 40mins or so by myself to get my kit drying. Tonight is luxury with electric heaters, hobs and boots warmers. JJ arrives next followed by Andre and Tarryn, the South African contingent though choosing to bunk up together, so James and Daryl compete my cabin.
The thermometer on the window says -18C and it feels cold outside. Fortunately the only reason to leave the cabin is to get water and visit the loos. I also put in a visit to the Tent 56 guys to see how they are doing and find them in good spirits. We band together in our cabin to make sure we have enough water. JJ’s bag is broken so I give him some zip ties. I have been suffering with ITB syndrome in my right leg causing a nasty knee pain when I run. In the night I decide to google how to tape my leg for this. I have always viewed people covered in physio tape as mugs buying into some bullshit treatment, I mean is a bit of tape on your skin really going to ‘stabilise’ anything? I figure though I have nothing to loose and James offers me a length of tape since I don’t have enough. It's one of the best things about these events, that even if you are racing, in the camp everyone pulls together to get each other through, sharing kit and advice equally.
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