Jungle Marathon 2004
Amazon Rainforest Brazil
This
journal was transcribed from a report 'phoned in by satellite. Connections were
not always good and messages got garbled, so this may not be up to my usual
standard. Originally posted on EventRate.
On Friday 18th September the second Jungle Marathon will begin in the Para region of Brazil. Last year I considered myself extremely fortunate to have survived the first edition and come home in one piece. So maybe I should have thanked my lucky stars and stayed away.
The race comprises six stages over seven days totalling 200 km of racing on foot through roughly cut trails, rivers and swamps carrying all our own equipment for 7 days, including hammocks, food, clothing and medical supplies. Temperatures are ridiculously hot with humidity at the most horrible levels imaginable. Imagine sweating heavily from 8 o'clock in the morning until 6 o'clock in the evening and then perspiring lightly for the rest of the time!
I remember well the routine after every stage of the race - along with the two fellow Brits who I raced with all week, we washed ourselves in the river, hung out our clothes to dry on trees and branches and discussed the day's ordeal. We agreed that Andy would be allowed one "It's a jungle out there!" per day. My contribution was a simple "I hate this place!" And the thing is at the time I almost meant it.
Without a doubt, the Amazon rainforest is the most hostile, dangerous and unforgiving place I have ever been. Someone told me before I went "Everything in the jungle tries to eat or kill you." He wasn't joking, as I discovered.
There are so many different dangers; for example the trees often have sharp needles sticking out to protect themselves from scavenging animals and parasites and the needles themselves have tiny barbs on them so that if you grab one to prevent you sliding down a steep bank into a swamp or stream then the barbs stick into your hands, tearing the flesh on the fingers and creating an instant unstoppable bloodfest. Nice.
One morning I stumbled on my way out of a stream and thrust my hand down into the dirt to catch my balance. Aware I had landed on something sharp I checked my hand as I stood up only to see my fingers and thumb covered in blood - another barbed needle I assumed. In some environments it would take a day or two for a cut like that to become infected, but knowing how fast bacteria spreads in the jungle it wasn't long before I was covering the hand with anti-septic to prevent something nasty embedding itself.
On another day I noticed two bees angrily flying around my head in circles. We'd probably passed too close to a nest and these bees were clearly sentries protecting their turf. But to maintain this for 30 minutes or more was highly off-putting. Restraining myself I managed to avoid swatting at them with my hands, knowing this would only antagonise them further.
We saw snakes, scorpions, caiman, and the largest spiders I have ever seen anywhere. I'm now convinced that tarantulas in zoos are merely a midget breed as the ones we saw were the size of large shoes and had incredibly hairy legs too. Although I didn't see jaguar, others did, and we smelled one on the trail on one of the days. All in all, the wildlife was everything and more that I had been promised.
But the most severe difficulties encountered by runners came not from the wildlife but from one of two sources, either dehydration or the side-effects of malarone, an anti-malaria treatment. Unfortunately the side effects of malarone and the effects of dehydration/heart exhaustion seemed to be similar, namely acute feelings of nausea, headaches, dizziness and general feelings of poor health. The majority of the race's casualties were sustained in the first couple of days and these two reasons accounted for most although later in the race blisters and other injuries took their toll too.
So why do we do it? Personal adventure? Competition? Meeting other like-minded ultra-athletes? Charity? Possibly for some of these reasons and maybe others too. Nevertheless, I have a feeling that whatever gets us all to the start may not necessarily be what carries us through the tougher times all the way to the finish. We will just have to dig deep and encourage each other as best we can.
This year I have had more time to prepare and although I feel I have done everything I can possibly do, in this race there are so many more things which can go wrong which are completely outside my control than in any other race I know. So I can't help feeling a bit apprehensive again. Last year I learned that the jungle is not an environment to conquer, but one to survive. My sincere hope is that I have the same good fortune as I did last year and return home more or less in one piece… and maybe then I'll come to my senses!
Daily race reports will be here on Eventrate beginning on Thursday 17th September after the runners have had their Jungle Survival training day.
Stage 2
image The second stage started today at 6.00am. We soon left our tropical paradise camp and headed right back into the jungle and straight up a massive hill. However, before I got far I spotted the first casuality of the day a Brazillian runner who had fallen, sprained his ankle and was lying on the trail in considerable pain. I felt for him as it's not a happy ending to his Jungle Marathon, particularly as he'd done exceptionally well last year.We reached the first Checkpoint after 6km which took an agonising 1.45hrs - I was accompanied for the second day by my kiwi friend Andy Peek who led the entire stage, naviating faultlessly all day. Andy and I were concerned when we caught up with our friend Charlie Myers with whom we did much of our training. Charlie is much faster and stronger normally so I would not have expected to see him at all during a stage. Charlie was clearly suffering so we accompanied him to the next CP. At this one the doctors took a good look and him and made him rest for a while before setting off. Andy and I decided to continue with him at least staying with him until the next CP. However, during this next 4 km leg he was clearly not recovering well. At the next CP he was looked after by the medics and was kept there by them.
Andy and I continued alone and struggled on to the end of the stage, clambering over fallen logs, wading through swamps and battling our way up and down more hills until the finish. I was pleased to discover that nearly every other runner I spoke to found this a tough stage. One of the more experienced USA ultra runners confessed to me it was the worst days running he'd ever had.
Ray Zabah, a Canadian runner saw a tarantula on the trail but was far more concerned by the two wild jungle pigs he saw on the trial.He said he kept one eye on the track ahead and another on trees he passed, just incase he needed to find one to climb if the pigs pursued him.
Apparently two Brazilian runners killed a snake which was lying on a log right on his path we were all about to run along too, so we're certainly encountering wild life.
While trying to put up hammocks, wash our bodies, dress our wounds and re-fuel with food we heard occasionally cries of pain coming from the medical huts! It was a tougher day for some more than others, this was supposed to be the easy day, a mere 24km. Tomorrow will be 31.2km.
Stage 3
Todays third stage came as a welcome relief to most of us as Shirley Thompson and Robert Polhammer cut the last few kilometres from the course. To help matters, the course was a good deal flatter, despite a handful of challenging hills. The majority of the trail is composed of dead leaves, rotten deadfall, logs to climb over, tree and plant roots, dead trip wire vines, holes and tree stumps of sapling and small trees freshly cut for the race. The entire time is spent watching the track and trying to see the marker tapes tied on to trees and plants.There's no question that the hardest obstacle for most runners is the incredible humidity. Several runners have now been treated with intravenous drips and a total of 21 runners have now scratched or been pulled out by the ever more impressive team of medics. In the spirit of the adventure, some of these casualties may be allowed to return to the course at a later stage to join us as "unofficial" competitors.
I raced with Andy Peek again today and we kept up a brisk march all day, myself setting far too strong a pace in the morning and Andy doing the same in the afternoon. We went well, stopping only at checkpoints for the water and to plough our way throug our rations. We had a interesting deep river crossing followed by a 100 metre patch of treacherous swamp in the middle of the course which added some variety to the day. Following this, much of the route took us through villages, past farms and down excellent community trails. Nevertheless we were relieved to finally reach the finish at 1.30pm.
It's hard to think of getting up at 4.45am on a Sunday Morning to spend a day flogging across jungle trails swamps and rivers but somehow I don't regret it. To have completed the third day was a great psychological boost. My body is beginning to suffer. My feet permenantly waterlogged during the day, were begining to feel bruised and sore. A few blisters are making themselves felt and the soles are definitely feeling worse for wear. Otherwise I seem to be holding up fine. Todays casualties have included many runners with foot complaints and this is likely to be the case for the remainder of the race, We've been briefed about tomorrow's 21km stage and it sounds similar to today's which is reassuring. Most of the talk in the camp however, seems to revolve around the long-stage - fify miler - on Wednesday/Thursday. At the moment 50 miles on these feet seems unthinkable.
Last night at our camp I was woken several times by the incredible roar of the howler monkeys in the trees, and unrelenting racket. And yet an amazing reminder of just how far into this remote environment we are. I have just heard from someone who's hammock is close to mine that a snake has been seen lurking around enar our hammock- not good news when your only wearing flip-flops on your feet.
Stage 4
Today's start was delayed for 1.5 hours owing to safety reasons and when we began we could see why. The stage began with a full 200 meters swim across the river by our camp. Weaving a path and swimming this distance was never going to be easy but I had underestimated how hard this section would be.Along with all the other competitors I plunged into the refreshingly cool water wading out towards the rope which had been stretched across from the bank to bank. It was a struggle fighting through all the bodies to get to the rope, but I made it reasonably easily. My mistake was in thinking that this would be a relatively easy rope-haul across the river.
However in only a few seconds I realised that with my pack strapped firmly to my back this could be a bit tricky. I tried pulling for a short while but was struggling to keep my head above water. So I unhooked the waist strap of the pack thinking this would give me more rooom to manouevre. Sadly this has the effect of pushing the pack up to the surface, buoyed by the air trapped inside. As I still had my chest strap attached this had the undesirable consequence of pushing my head down under the surface. One of those hasty,life changing decisions later and my chest strap was off my arms were tugging away trying to release the shoulder straps and soon my pack was off.
I was grateful for the sympathetic enquiries I got from the fellow runners swimming past "Hey Luke, are you ok?" "Luke,do you need a hand?" Unfortunately I was fighting for breath and trying to keep my head above water.i wanted to shout back angriily " Look for God's sake stop interrupting me! Can't you see I's focusing intently on drowning myself?" But all that came out was "Yes fine, no problem, don't mind me" followed by a few splutters. Arriving at the other bank I thanked whatever divine providence decided to lend me a helping hand and off I trotted.
Andy and I were today joined by Cameron, a 28 year old doctor from South Africa and our friend Charlie Myers, who had been carted off by helicopter to the medics at base camp two days earlier. He'd been given the all clear by the doctors and decided to join us for the stage.
The stage was about 21 km long comprised mostly of the green stuff and included several trails and community roads through villages, it was a fast stage for us and we motored well throughout the day. Arriving at the camp this evening we slungour hammocks in the pre-built frames and got straightinto our daily routine.. Finish stage, get water, sling hammock, jump in river, wash clothes, wash bodies, hang up clothes up to dry somewhere where the bugs and scorpions won't get in them. East food, go to doctor, eat more food, go to briefing for tomorrow's stage, eat food if any left, go to bed (or write Eventrate article then go to bed).
Tomorrow's the fifth stage. Oh joy.
Stage 5
Woken at 3.15am by my irritating watch alarm I prised myself out of myhammock and began my final preparations for the longest and most gruelling stages of the event - a full 86km. Breakfast comprised a tasty vanilla flavoured Peronin, a bag of freeze-dried cereal and a Nescafe cappuccino sachet. Then came the foot check - they had both been carefully taped the night before by Louisa, one of the excellent medical team members. Then I 'disarmed' my hammock (as the Brazilian survival instructors say) before stowing all my kit in my pack. After eating 4 days' rations my pack is lighter and easier to fill. It was vital to make sure everything was water-tight owing to the 120 metre swim across a river to the start. The start-time had been brought forward to 4.30am in order to give as many runners as possible a chance to complete the jungle sections of the stage before dusk. The trail had been roughly divided in two with the first 45km following cut trails through an area known to be the most densely populated by jaguars in the region. Competitors had to arrive at CP4 (34km) by 6pm in order to be allowed to continue the next 11km. They would be escorted on this section by armed guides.So there we were at the beginning of the race with the same reckless abandon we'd become used to and plunged into the river in the dark, frantically grasping for the guide rope. Unlike the day before it was easy to find and I was relieved to keep my head and spirits up all the way across. Nevertheless, starting an 86km stage soaking wet from head to foot is clearly the most ridiculous thing possible, especially with the amount of foot trauma already experienced by most runners but hey, we like a challenge.
Soon after starting we made the first wrong turning of the day. Following two other guys (we should have known better) who were also struggling to see the marker tape hidden in the trees in the half-dark we missed a well concealed turn off down a side-track. Fortunately for us, a Brazilian group behind us saw the turning and shouted out to us when they reached the junction. And therefore we were able to back-track and return to the marked course. However, as we soon found out, the elite leaders hadnt been as lucky and had continued to follow the wrong path for much longer. They soon caught us up and scooted past us.
Our group comprised the usual suspects, ie Andy Peek, Charlie Myers and myself. We were joined for the whole of the jungle section by Cameron Anley, 28, a South African doctor working in London, Daniel Bonalleck, a Kiwi, (whose father, John, is also competing) and Dave Wilson from the North East. I'd met Daniel previously both at the MdS in 1998 and then again at the Himalayan 100 Mile Stage Race in India in 1999. It was great to catch up with him again.
I set the pace and led the group for 9 hours, which in retrospect was probably 8.5 hours too long - after 6 hours I became overheated and heat-stressed. Doing my best not to let anyone know that I was feeling the heat I pushed on to CP4 where I knew I could rest for a few minutes.
However, between CP1 and CP2 we experienced one of those incidents which can really only happen on a race of this kind and which can either cause chaos or bond a team closer together. We got attacked by a nest of bees on one of the steepest parts of a hill on the trail. The first indication that any trouble was afoot was when Charlie, immediately behind me, shouted out "Ow!". Just as I was turning around to see what the problem was, I felt several painful simultaneous stings on my own body and found myself shouting out "Ow!" just as loudly. Frantically, we both started swatting our own legs and arms before yelling to the guys behind us "Bees! Run for it!". This was probably the fastest I had run during the entire race so far. About 100 metres further up the hill Charlie and I stopped to catch our breath and do a quick bee-check. Charlie had several bees on his back and legs all lining up to sting him so I set about him swatting his back and legs as fast as I could. I didnt notice the one that had crawled onto his head. He was clutching at his hair asking me if he had one lodged there. If he hadnt been pawing at his hair I would have swatted him probably far too hard for which I should think he would never have forgiven me. However, fortunately he managed to dislodge the bee though not before it had stung him, leaving him with a throbbing pain all day. Just as the others caught up with us we realised more of the little blighters from the nest were giving chase so we all legged it down the track another couple of hundred metres before doing a damage assessment. Incredibly, the final score was Charlie 5 stings, Luke 4 stings, everyone else nil stings - how unfair is that? Luckily we had thought to bring along a Cameron with us (the A&E doctor from Battersea) and he was able to give advice and a sympathetic ear.
We bashed on to the 36km mark. On arrival, Louisa (excellent nurse previously mentioned) took one look at me, sat me down, took my pulse and started assessing me for heat problems. I cant fault her - she was the one who spotted Charlie was in trouble before his collapse earlier in the week - so I took her advice. She told me I would have to slow down and banned me from setting the pace on the next section - apparently the pace I'd set all morning was too strong and I just hadn't realised it.
We continued to CP5 where we rested, ate, dressed blisters and sought medical attention before leaving. At this point the group split with Daniel and Dave Wilson going on ahead and Charlie, Andy and I going out more slowly behind them. Cameron, who had been struggling for a couple of km up to CP5 then confessed he was feeling ill and had suspected that he was going down rapidly with flu. In truth, he looked a good deal worse than he felt, red nose, swollen watery eyes and clearly physically distressed. It is amazing how fast someone can go from seeming perfectly OK to being in a dreadful state in this environment. He told us to go without him and said that he would probably have to retire from the race later. In turn, we all begged him not to quit. Our belief was that he still had over 24 hours to complete the stage and could even afford to have a 12 hour rest before leaving this CP. He wasnt convinced, and when we left him I was genuinely concerned that we wouldnt see him out on the course again. It is always disappointing to see a strong and adventuous racer in such an awful way.
After only a short time it was almost dark and Andy, who was leading, spotted a snake on the track infront of us. It was about 3ft long and retreating wisely into the bushes. We decided to be extra vigilant looking for snakes and spiders as we marched quietly off into the night.
The next 20km were on sandy roads which wound their way through thick jungle and one or two villages. We were getting progressively exhausted. Thankfully Charlie had the bright idea of breaking into a packet of Joosters Jelly Beans. The sugar rush cheered us enormously and powered us on. At one point Andrew picked up the pace to something that felt quite unreasonable. He had been bitten by some flying attack ant and had been in some discomfort - Charlie had been swooped by a bat which had just appeared infront of his face in the light of his head torch. Understandably we were all a little frazzled however I couldnt understand why this had caused Andy to go into turbo mode, with an uncharacteristically anxious manner. He told me after that he had been scanning the road and bushes beside with his head torch and had seen in the bushes what he thought was almost certainly a jaguar. We later discovered that several runners had seen jaguars and one of the medics had seen a panther on this section of the route. Rather than let us know Andy had gone into orbit and had smartly qickened up his pace. Charlie and I, ignorant of this new danger, struggled to keep up with this seemingly insane pace. However, we tried to keep up and pushed on to CP7 where we were greeted by Lewis, one of the race doctors. He advised us that the race had been stopped for the night owing to many competitors being lost (this was infact not true but he had been given some incorrect information). We were told to stay in the CP overnight. We 'armed' our hammocks and decided to sleep and have breakfast before continuing several hours later.
At 6am I woke, ate a light breakfast and then Andy and I moved out to finish off the last 21km of the stage. Charlie had gone off before so it was just Andy and I for this section. The route comprised either deep sandy tracks through villages or deep sand on the beach by the Tapajos river, which at this point is over 20km wide (guess).
Again I began to overheat and had to stop and rest twice on this section. It was surreal to be able to take these rest breaks sittig on a log by palm trees looking out over a white sandy beach across the Tapajos.
After 23 hours travelling plus about 8 hours of breaks (7 hours enforced) Andy and I completed the stage.
I washed and relaxed in the river for a full hour before arming my hammock and getting on with my habitual post-stage routines. One of the best things which happened to me following this stage was that I was greeted at the finish line by Cameron who had rested for several hours at CP5 before being accompanied on foot all the way through to the finish of the stage by Simon Bowden, one of the runners forced to retire on day one (owing to medical problems) who had continued to support other runners throughout the week. Therefore Cameron was still in the race and would only have to complete the last stage along with the rest of us tomorrow to get his medal.
To know that we have now broken the back of the race is a great relief. My feet hurt, my body is covered with cuts, grazes, bruises, stings and heat sores and I am still recovering from my heat problems.
Tomorrow we have a plucky little 24km run along the white sandy beach in temperatures up to 40 degrees. I cant wait to get to the end - I'm reasonably confident of finishing now. However, this has been much tougher than I expected and a good deal tougher than last year's Jungle Marathon.
Final Stage
For the last stage we were promised river/creek crossings, regular CPS and 24 km of sandy beach in temperatures of up to 40 degrees. This wouldn't be easy for most of us who were suffering from mangled feet and tired limbs. The one consolation was that we would be carrying very little weight now as we had by now eaten all our rations. We would essentially be carrying only water and light packs. Also the powerful motivation driving us on would be that at the end of the stage we would finally arrive at the end of the race. We were given a later start than usual, 8.00 am, which meant more time out in the midday heat. The doctors were so concerned for our welfare they demanded we all wore hats. This caused something of a surprising yet hilarious kerfuffle. As hats hadn't been on the mandatory kit list one or two runners who had not worn them all week were suddenly thrown a curved ball. One runner argued vehemently with the organiser, resorting to calling him a something Jackass, which provided great entertainment for all of us. In the end he was allowed to run without, though was warned that the medics might not let him continue from CPs if he looked to be suffering. (In the end he finished with no further problems or outbursts).No sooner had we started the stage than we set off through a small wood next to the beach. A sudden roar of shouting and panic ahead was quickly folowed by a whole group of runners running back down the trail towards me shouting out "Bees!" - "Oh no, not that again!" I thought, as I joined in the general escaping herd searching for a way around that part of the wood. A few got stung, this time not me thankfully. But generally most got back nto their rhythm soon.
The majority of this stage passed fairly pleasantly - the dreadful heat promised didn't materialise and we were fortunate to be under clouds for much of the first half of the course. Also, there was a strong breeze which took the edge off the heat. A few water crossings proved no more than refreshing breaks and the CPs were indeed only 6 km apart. One section of the course was over some rocks next to some low cliffs. In the end most of us took the easy route and just waded chest deep around the rocks in the river, shuffling our feet along the bottom in order to frighten off any dormant stingrays.
The sand on the beach was occasionally runnable, though in the main it was soft and deep so I marched at a steady pace all morning with Andy - it had been good for each of us to have each other's company as we had kept a solid pace going most of the week. It was an appropriate way to continue through the last stage.
Soon enough we reached the end of the race in a small village square and were greeted under the Finish banner by two of the medics, Andy and Catriona and other supporters. It was a great relief to have finally completed such an epic event. We collapsed in a nearby restaurant where the Race Organiser had booked food and tables for all the finishers. I found it a little strange sitting at a table to eat and using plates and cutlery for the first time in a week. Waiters brought us drinks to the table and I sat there bemused trying to take it all in. From the course of one of the hardest races in the world to the lap of luxury in only a few minutes took time to absorb.
My body ached, my feet were battered, I was covered in sores, bites, stings, scratches, cuts, toes rubbed raw by friction with my trainers and a couple of blisters. My feet and legs were puffy and swollen and I couldn't wait to get showered, changed and back into normal clothes. The hotel would fee like Paradise compared to the last few days. There would be air conditioning too!
A race like this requires a great deal of organisation and in my view Shirley Thompson and Robert Polhammer did an outstanding job in their first year in the roles of Race Organiser and Race Director respectively. They were admirably supported by the local army firefighters, many soldiers based locally, support volunteers from the UK and locally and one of the best medical teams I have ever met on a race. We were lucky to have such an excellent team to carry us all through. My thanks go to all of the above for making the week and the race such an unforgettable experience.
I have personally been incredibly fortunate to have been supported by a collection of sponsors and partners. Sally Polak at Vision Express jumped in at the last minute and gave me vision....quite literally. Last year at the Jungle Marathon I had to bin my contact lenses owing to eye infections. This year Vision Express kindy supplied me with racing glasses so I had clear vision all week. And what a huge difference it made. I stayed upright a good deal more than last year and could never have done any leading without their generous help!
Tilley Endurables supplied one of the best jungle hats known to man. The soft padding in the top prevented me from being knocked unconscious many times as I ducked nearly-but-not-quite low enough under trees and deadfall on the course.
Expedition Foods made mealtimes a genuine pleasure and furnished me with enough energy to race without getting weak over the seven days. The freeze-dried food is the tastiest I have ever had.
X-Socks provided me with the best socks in the world. Seven days in the jungle with wet feet, sand, mud and debris and I only got two small blisters?? Incredible!
Both Andy Peek and Charlie Myers were constant friends and co-racers all week, excepting for Charlie's unfortunate collapse on Day 3. I found their companionship a real boost all week.
Lastly I would like to thank dear Charlotte, my long-suffering wife, who once again encouraged and supported my efforts sending me regular news updates from the UK by email, along with the latest music gossip!
The Jungle Marathon is not for the faint-hearted. I've known many former extremely tough MdS finishers not get past two or three days of this race. It's a race for experienced and hardy extreme runners...and even that background is no guaranteee of success. Long may the event go on providing such a great challenge to future generations of adventurers and runners...