Stephen’s “view from the back of the pack” whilst ultra running around Mont Blanc:
Courmayeur-Champex-Chamonix (CCC)
The drizzle wet our 2300 faces at the start melee in Courmayeur, so I turned to Margot and gave a thumbs up sign: good British summer weather. Yeah. Fantastic. The gods are with me. I fade in the heat. Omens were good: I had collected my entrant’s t-shirt and went on to achieve a finisher’s fleece gilet, so now John K would let me come home. What happened between collecting the two garments could fill five pages, but I’ll give a flavour here.
The CCC (98k 5600m ascent) is one of four races around Mont Blanc and for the first time in its history was halted due to the appalling weather. The long UTMB (166k) was stopped and restarted on a short course, both male and female classes being won by Brits. The third race on the southern route (111k) was never even started, and the five day team event (244k) had numerous withdrawals. Sponsors The North Face pitch the UTMB as the greatest trail run in Europe. Some say the world, but the Americans pretend theirs are better, like the ‘world’ baseball championship. Whatever, it certainly is one of the ‘must-do’ races in your lifetime.
The atmosphere increased during the preceding days in Chamonix as the stars arrived, and you never knew who you might meet in an early morning jog, or down at the supermarket. National French TV cover the race and the Italians and Swiss villagers along the route play their part in amping the excitement and motivation.
Friday race day: The 10 am drizzle turned to heavy rain as we jogged through the narrow streets of Courmayeur and out and up into the mountains. Thousands of spectators cheered us along, cowbells clanging as we ran hood-up splashing through the puddles, just like August on the Downs with the Flyers. Start-line adrenaline zoomed ‘coureurs’ up the singletrack to the first checkpoint at Bertone. Bottlenecks were common at this stage as overtaking opportunities were limited. I had chosen to stay longer in bed for a later bus transfer to the start, so wasn’t sufficiently high up the grid. The first killer hill is Tronche with outstanding views back into Italy, Mont Blanc and the magnificent Grand Jorasses. Fortunately, the rain abated and we sped (ahem) along reasonably compact trails. A quick tightening of my laces and a 5k downhill bomb to Bonatti satisfies my speed lust. Quick check of water, no re-fill needed, ten minutes saved in my runplan.
Bonatti to Arnuva is a beautiful traverse with superb glacier views and high peaks, followed by another fast downhill. Margot and Graham had used the supporters’ bus to greet me at Arnuva with pasta and For Goodness Shakes. Essential food as I knew that the following climb to the Grand Col Ferret is seriously steep. Trail running poles are essential. The rain had abated and the sun shone. Curses. This section offers no shade. Immediately, the clouds race in and the wind builds to almost a hurricane. I maintain my own pace, knowing there are four more big ‘uns to come, and 120+ people pass by me. I only get past 20 on the downhill! The descent has a revision to last year with a more direct route
down a very narrow v-shaped rocky gully. It was ‘After you, Claude’ along here, very gingerly by one and all. A gentle run downhill in a thunderstorm to the next foodstation at La Fouly, arriving at 18.40, 40 minutes ahead of my schedule. Time for a half baguette sandwich and another FGS (I’d taken the powder version, much to be recommended as its kind to an already stressed body). The run then continues along stunningly beautiful Swiss countryside, many new chalets being built. The rain is now stairrods, and the local children are huddled under shelters in the villages but still bravely shouting ‘Allez’ and ‘Bravo’ or high fiving to us later runners.
Head torches shining, Champex approaches at just over the half way marker at 55k and 21.23pm, an hour ahead of schedule, another steep wooded track leading to the marquee….which is rammed. Space is non-existent as it is the main refuelling station by the organisers……everything from soup, pasta, chips. I was searching for Margot and Graham, but were nowhere to be seen. Little did we know, but the UTMB and been stopped after 21k due the atrocious weather. All the supporters’ buses had been diverted to rescue the runners. Quick phone call discovered they were still 15 mins away. Graham came running up the hill into transition with two rucksacks completely knackered. What a star. I shyly changed into Smartwool top and dry leggings and PhD socks. Nearby, several Italian women graciously looked the other way, whilst they dried their coats in front of a blower-heater. Graham took my jacket to do the same. Though even gore-tex couldn’t cope with this rain. An hour later, I leave suitably refreshed into the continuing storm for the infamous Bovine.
The Ferret spooks me because of the barren exposure and unrelenting zigzags. The Bovine is incredibly steep and rocky and, for this year, glorious mud. I had climbed it in training, so knew what to expect: 3 hours to Trient in the dry, including a fast descent after the punishing climb. I set off at a great pace, even overtaking people uphill. Me? Shurely shum mishtake. And then we hit the boulders. Single file and stop was the order of the day as people struggled to quickly surmount the obstacles in the monsoon dark. Some time later we emerged onto the wider track near the summit where there was a checkpoint. Fortunately, they were offering soup and people were huddled inside to escape the horrendous elements. The fierce windy rain blew you sideways, risking an ankle twist as the path was two narrow ruts. I didn’t want to stop and get cold so continued, just gulping a caffeine gel.
At the top of Bovine the route passes a gate that denotes the passage down to Forclaz to continue to Trient. Just the stage to make up time, I thought. The path traverses and descends at the same time, with a 2000m slip over the edge through the trees to Martigny if you took a tumble. Which one chap in front of me nearly did, saved by a bush in the nick of time. I had got my rhythm and was really in the groove at this point. Jogging and sliding on the relatively gritty parts of the trail, skipping over the roots, knees bent and poles stretched out in front of me. All went well until I met a group going way too slowly but couldn’t pass them. 1k of frustration later, we came to Forclaz. I sprinted past 20 people on the Col before the track darted back down the hillside. I am so glad I did, as the next section was an exceptionally tight series of zigzags that were a complete mudslide. At one point I was snowploughing through the mud to brake before the turns. Possibly good fun at any other time but not at 2.00 in the morning. Three o’clock brought me into Trient and I was very pleased to see Margot’s face appearing out of the marquee. They were worried as I was over the time I had indicated. This section had taken four and a half hours. Quick refuel and out the door.
The Tseppes lead uphill to Catogne and are also dreaded, as this hill never seems to end. I knew that the terrain wasn’t too severe, just a long slog. As you can imagine, this path was now a downhill river, with mudstreams everywhere. This caused much bunching and I had to do a bit of ducking and diving to overtake runners with lots of franglais ‘pardons’ and ‘scusi’. I was truly flying. Must have been a combo of the gels and the fact that I was totally confident that I had the race cracked!
Then, some headtorches were coming towards me. Hikers? Marshals? No, competitors. Not too many English guys were racing, and eventually I found a Dutch guy who explained that ‘there was no path’, the race was stopped, and we had to return. WHAT?? I checked with another person that it really was over. If I had been 40+ places higher, I may have made it through…or got caught in something nasty. We had heard a rumour in Trient that the UTMB had been halted due to the conditions, but assumed that we could continue and maybe given extra time. One can understand the organiser’s duty of care, but pssssht the air blew from my personal balloon. I made a quick phone call to Graham to see if they had boarded their bus, and if not, to do so quickly, otherwise they were about to be bounced by 200 returning runners. We were fed raclette and beer whilst waiting turns for the buses, eventually arriving at Chamonix at 5.30am……and passed some solitary early finishing runners on the way back to base.
Highlights: The buzz in the town leading up to the race. Bombing down the Bovine in the crappy conditions
Lowlights: Friend David being ill and having to withdraw four days prior to the start
The two guys running with red lights on the rear of their headtorches….just like the morons on the motorway with foglights dazzling unnecessarily
Being denied the opportunity to run with Margot and Graham through the town to the finish with thousands of people cheering you in. It would have been nice to get the glory just the nice.
The finish line that should have been. I had 8 hours/23k before the time limit to arrive.
An amazing race. 75k completed plus 4k return. No blisters, aches or pains.
Thanks to the ‘gang’ for training with me and to Margot and Graham for putting up with my dreams. They do come true.
