A siren started wailing as the sun was setting at the end of stage four and we saw other competitors walking towards the finishing line. We had no idea what was going on but as everyone else was heading in that direction our tent thought we should follow suit. When we joined the crowd we followed their gaze and in the distance we could just about make out two camels slowly approaching the camp. At the time we were unaware that we were participants in yet another element of what makes the Marathon Des Sables or MDS such a mythical race.
A six hour transfer had brought us to the bivouac on the first day and our traditional open “berber” tent which would be home for the next seven days. Home consisted of a large blanket pegged to the sand with various sticks placed strategically to create a tent like living space for groups of eight, predominantly, white, middle class, Western Europeans in various stages of their mid-life crises. A rug was laid across the floor and a daily task on finishing a stage was to sweep away all the stones as we slept on the floor. The tent was open on both sides so that the Sahara winds, gusting on one day up to 80 kph, could pass through without destroying the tent. Nice in theory, disastrous in reality as when the sand storm hit every tent was obliterated. Tim, James, Anthony, Frances, Niki, Caroline, Robert and I attempted to get some sleep before the start of the first stage.
I took my place right at the front of the 1,000 plus competitors for the start of stage 1 as a statement of intent. Patrick Bauer, a former French rock group promoter and the originator of the MDS, now probably into his 60’s, stood on the top of a landrover defender dad dancing to “son of a preacher man” accompanied by his translator as two helicopters clattered overhead throwing up a sand storm of their own. The fleets of lorries and land cruisers stood by and the close to 800 support staff cheered the start. The sheer scale of this insane circus is difficult to convey and that the entire village is re-built every day is a staggering feet of logistics. After a rambling briefing and singing of happy birthday to those celebrating their big day Highway to Hell began to be belted out from the speakers – the song is played at the start of every stage and it really is a great track, fired up we began the stage.
Stage 1 was relatively easy, 30km, pretty flat and no dunes and some sand. There was not too much wind and temperatures reasonable for the MDS in the early 30s. Sometimes temperatures reach the late 40s and even the 50s but we were lucky this year – at least in terms of the heat. I knew I was running too hard and tried to slow down but I felt great and could not help myself. With 10km to go I started to get terrible stomach cramps and I debated for 5km whether I could hold on for the finish or whether I would need to find a suitable bush. In the end I had no choice and had to watch as 12 competitors came past but I felt a lot better as a result. I pushed on for the finish and came in 45th, 35th if I adjust for a call of nature in 2:53, burning 1,810 calories. I was very happy with the opening stage.
My stomach was still in a bad way and I had to make frequent visits to the “loos”. These consisted of three cubicles made up of plastic sheeting with a further plastic sheet acting as the “door” and offering little privacy. You had to keep one foot on the bottom of the plastic sheet to stop the wind revealing your commune with nature to those waiting in line. Each day we were issued with bio-degradable “poo bags” which were stretched across a loo seat frame. You dropped a little pebble into the bag to avoid a “blow back” incident before meeting the call of nature. Once complete a knot would be tied in the bag and it was then placed in the dustbin by the side of the cubicles. Whilst this may sound horrific it was eco-friendly and actually very hygienic.
Temperatures plummeted that and every night and my super lightweight sleeping bag was inadequate for the cold. I maybe slept two or three hours between multiple visits to the loo. The camp woke up around 5:00am as we began to prepare for stage 2. Mid-way through our preparations – breakfast, suntan cream, anti-chaffing cream, gaiters to prevent sand from entering the shoes, etc and stashing sleeping mats, stoves, food, sleeping bags, etc the team of Berbers would remove the tent while you were still in it so that your final preparations were performed under the full force of the elements. I headed to the start line for stage 2 not feeling too good.
Highway to Hell would have a particularly pertinent meaning today. I began running but from the first step I knew it would be a bad day. At the first checkpoint of the 39km stage I was done. The lack of sleep, stomach pain and my aggravated tendonitis of the groin meant running was not an option. The stage comprised many flat, endless stretches across dried lakes and as I slowed to a walk the entire field began to pass me. My greatest fear was that I would be overtaken by the Japanese contestant completing the entire race in traditional Japanese attire including wooden sandals (imagine flip flops made of wood with two wooden cross beams providing some form of “tread”). I occasionally looked back to check if I could spot him and his two companions dressed respectively as a strawberry and a plum. The Japanese can be extremely odd at times – all three were to finish. I had plenty of time to ponder retiring from the race or just trying to finish. 6 hours and 16 minutes later I crossed the finish line in 330th position having decided to start tomorrow before making a decision as to whether to quit. I was not in a good place but at least my feet were not falling apart.
Blisters are a key part of the MDS – they are part of the myth. I had been “tanning” my feet with a special spay for the best part of a year, I had also filed down the hard skin and followed all the protocols to protect my feet. I think some people are prone to blisters and some are not – fortunately I fall into the latter category and did not get even one blister. My tent mates on the other hand were not so fortunate and their feet increasingly turned to mince meat over the course of the race. By the end some had more blister and taping than feet. I cannot begin to imagine how my tent mates dealt with the pain.
I had low expectations at the start of stage 3 but tent mate Niki had lent me some hard core pain killers which I had applied to my groin. An interesting feature of MDS is how personal dignity disappears completely within 24 hours. By the end of the race the girls would thinking of meeting the call of of nature with the same devil may care attitude as men. It became quite normal to be chatting about the ages of your children whilst smearing vasoline over your under carriage to prevent chaffing. I began running very gently and the pain was bearable. The 30 km stage was incredible featuring two big climbs and then running along a rocky ridge as the helicopters tracked our progress. It suited me and the climbing and descending placed less pressure on my groin. I was surprised and delighted to arrive in 57th place in a time of 3 hours 51 minutes, burning 1,796 calories. My race was not yet over and I had loved every step of an easy effort.
To try and get the weight of my pack down to the minimum of 6.5kg I had reduced my calories to around 2,700 per day. With a daily total burn rate of never less than 3,500 the entire race is run in a state of food deprivation which only adds to the suffering of the event. Meals comprise freeze dried delights such as Chili Con Carne which I would eat cold in the cut off bottom of a water bottle as I wanted to avoid the additional weight of a stove and fuel. I actually really liked the meals, I just didn’t have enough of them.
Stage 4 was the much feared long stage comprising more than two marathons back-to-back with more than 1,000m of climbing and energy sapping sand and dunes. I started with Army captain James from my tent and we marched the first 42 km, running only when it was downhill. At the half way mark I felt like I had expelled no energy whatsoever and was ready to attack. I left James and began running feeling strong and confident. I began working through the field and I kept back two gels for the final “fast” 20 km. I knew things were going well as I could count fewer foot steps in the sand.
With 20km to go I turned North for the finish as the sunset and directly into a sand storm headwind that would later decimate the camp. I knew others would be suffering but I still felt strong and continued to feel great even passing some of the phenomenal female elite athletes. Just as the camp and finish line came into view I felt my energy begin to fade a little but I still had enough to contend an extended sprint finish with one of the elites. I finished in 40th place in a time of just over 12 hours with a burn of 5,150 calories and it had felt effortless and fun – I was delighted with what was tactically a perfect stage. One by one my other tent mates would join me.
Day 5 is a rest day for those of us able to finish in good time. I spent the day resting and eating but I also did a short 4km recovery run to ensure I did not seize up ahead of the marathon stage tomorrow. Together we then waited on the finish line to await the arrival of “mums” Frances and Niki who were walking each stage. These are no ordinary mums – two years ago they rowed across the Atlantic with two other mums. The book of their adventure is currently in the process of being turned into a film. Google “four mums in a boat” if you want to know more. It was great to have our entire tent back together with us all having survived the long stage, as we shared our experiences we heard the siren begin to wail.
The two camels always follow the last contestant of each stage and as we gazed into the distance we were able to make out a lone and crooked figure slowly making his way towards the camp. A tradition of the MDS is that the entire camp congregates on the finish line to welcome home the last contestant of the long stage. Music plays, the crowd dances, the media team capture the event and eventually British contestant Mark, probably in his 60s, finally crossed the line. He must suffer from some form of spine deformity as his upper body is effectively angled at 90 degrees to the side of hips. Just walking looks challenging enough, let alone walking 86 km through the desert. He completed the stage in 34 hours of what must have been an agonizing effort. The MDS is full of such stories such as the blind Spaniard who completed the the first three stages with the support of what I presume is his son. How could I withdraw from the race because my groin hurt a little when others would go on to complete with only one leg or suffering from cerebral palsy?
The final timed stage was the marathon stage. It is interesting how we all felt that the marathon was no big deal after the long stage. The stage began in the middle of a full on sand storm and once again Highway to Hell seemed very apt. My plan was to start very conservatively and then build from the second half. We set off and I felt great – no fatigue from the long stage. I loved the dunes, coming past many other racers and I passed the female elites at the half-way stage which told me things were going well. I was scared of blowing up however and so remained conservative for too long. In hindsight I had the legs to have pushed a lot harder from the start. I completed the marathon in 4 hours and 21 minutes, burning 2,969 calories and finishing 48th with a really easy and enjoyable run. The marathon stage effectively marks the end of the race and my final overall positions was 65th. I had hoped for top 50 and so was disappointed and the truth is I do not really know what happened on Day 2 and where my subsequent form came from but I am so glad I did not just pull out at the end of that awful day.
The MDS is an incredible experience – success requires not just the ability to run fast through the desert carrying a heavy pack but managing your reduced food intake, limited water allocation, sleep deprivation, being absolutely filthy, extremes in temperature and the forces of nature which relentlessly seek to reduce your resolve to carry on. The MDS is an extreme test of grit and resilience. The test cannot be passed alone – it requires the collective support of your tent mates. Tent 99 made a great team and we shared the burden together and laughed and wept as one. I would do the MDS again but only if I was accompanied by Catie and friends with whom to share this incredible experience. So if anyone wants a jog through a giant sand pit then let me know!
Expeditions 