Written by Al Pepper - http://alanpepper.wordpress.com/

Would you do it again? That seems to be the question everyone asks me these days and I do take a bit of time to answer and I usually say ‘ Er well no but maybe yes,but I don’t really know’. It’s a strange feeling to have done what lots consider to be seen as the impossible and I still can’t believe it’s now done after nearly 2 years of preparation and training. I’m still finding myself wandering around spotting things in shops and supermarkets saying to myself that would be great for MdS. Maybe there’s something calling me back but I’d have to have a lottery win in order to finance it again!

3rd  / 4th of April, Home to Errachidia:

To say I was excited would have been a gross understatement. Thursday morning and off to work with a definite spring in my step in anticipation of a lunchtime finish and heading off to Gatwick. It was a strange feeling to be waiting for the train as I mentioned in the previous post it had been over 10 years since I’d stood on the platform waiting for a train to take me off to war. It was now however in much more pleasant circumstances and I couldn’t wait to get underway. Liz was there to wave me off and the amount of messages on Facebook was overwhelming with everyone wishing me well. I’d agreed to try and meet up at the hotel in Gatwick with one or two of the other runners but as it happened I retired early and decided I’d find everyone in the morning. It wasn’t difficult spotting other runners! As part of the kit preparation you have Velcro sewn around your shoes in order to fit the sand gaiters, so looking around at breakfast it was easy to spot all the other racers by looking at their feet. I’d bumped into a fellow racer called Duncan who said that they needed one more for their tent so I agreed to join and became the 8th tent member. I’d not really give it much thought as to finding a tent and had decided to be a bit of a free spirit and just see who I met on the day. It turned out that I’d found myself a really good group of blokes to spent my time in the desert with. We eventually all met up in the departure lounge as I’d not met the other tent members before. So we had myself (Al), Alan, Alan, John, Duncan, Brian, Mark, Daz. Yes you read it right there was 3 Alan’s in the tent so I said it was easy for me as most people call me AP. The other 2 Alan’s said their initials were AP too! I was then given the title of ‘Big Al’ which seemed to work until someone said Al and then we all answered. However, 3 of the guys where from Guernsey so we decided that our tent would be a little part of Guernsey and we would become honorary ‘Guerns’ for the duration of the race. Especially as between us we only had a Guernsey flag to hang on the tent! Eventually we boarded the plane and it was hilarious watching hundreds of us wandering about with most of our desert kit that was all identical trying to stuff what we could into the planes overhead lockers. What fun we had at the other end trying to work out who’s kit was who’s. After a flight into what must be the worlds smallest airport we had a couple of hours on a coach before we reached the ‘Bivouac’. As soon as the coach stopped we de-bussed grabbed our kit a ran for a tent. It’s a free for all when looking for a tent and everyone wants one near the start. We had ours right next to the entrance as two of the lads had arrived before us and claimed a well placed tent. So this was it, our home for the next week – Tent 145. I lay there in my sleeping bag staring out of the side less tent and up at the stars, the warm air brought the unique familiar smell of the desert with it and I drifted off into a happy place.

5th of April, Technical Checks and Queuing:  

Sunrise appeared at 05:00 and I watched it rise. It was stunning and I was determined I would watch it every morning. This day we had food provided by the organisers so off to queue for breakfast it was. Little did we know that we would spend most of the day queuing. The plan for the day was to present your kit, medical docs etc and collect your race number, flare and salt tablets and have your picture taken. We’d been allocated times to have your kit checked dependant on your race number but it didn’t seem to make any difference as the kit check queue never seemed to get any shorter. Also at this point you would take all of your belongings and leave your large bag with items that you didn’t need for the race with the organisers who would then make sure your bag met you at the end of race hotel. So it was an opportunity to decide if you really needed everything and lighten your racing kit. One thing that was apparent – it was Hot! Damn Hot!!! The heat was immense and was certainly the topic of discussion whilst we were queuing especially for those who hadn’t applied their sun cream! That done it was feet up time again and wait until the race briefing from the mad crazy Frenchman ‘Patrick Bauer’ (The Race Director). As we soon learnt, Patricks pre race briefing was going to set the stage for the pre stage briefing each morning. He gathered all of us the racers together and after a display from some Berbers and the Moroccan sand rugby team he climbed on top of a Land Rover and began his epic address to us all in French. This was fortunately interpreted by a lady who would listen patiently to Patricks enthusiastic ramblings and every so often explain in a few words what had been said in English. There was also a display of how to use the safety flares and then bizarrely another Frenchman climbed up and demonstrated how we should use the toilets! Thankfully it was not a real time demonstration but he was keen to explain in great detail how the plastic bag system worked. Afterwards it was feet up again in anticipation of some more queuing for evening meal then bed.

6th April, The Highway to Hell : Stage 1 – Ouest Erg Chebbi – Erg Znaigui – 34 Km

There was definitely an air of excitement today as we gathered in the centre of the bivouac to collect the first instalment of our daily water ration. On returning to our tent I found it gone! The team of Berbers work efficiently at dismantling the tents each morning and you could be sat there in the comfort of your tent and then the tent vanishes from around you within seconds leaving you sat on a large carpet looking like a refugee. So breakfast eaten, kit packed photographs taken it was time to head over to the start line. Patrick was already atop of a massive desert truck ready to start his pre stage brief. He began what was going to be a routine each day with a brief explanation of the course, some birthday messages and a dance to the ‘Happy’ song ! Yep a dance! You can imagine over a thousand desert racers all kitted up and ready to go dancing to the Happy song. It strangely felt right but definitely not like any other start line I’ve been on. Eventually the countdown began and the Highway to Hell (AC/DC) burst out of the speakers we all shook each others hands and wished each other luck. ‘Cinq, Quatre, Trois, Deux, Un …Go’ This was it we were off! We all ran out of the start area and into the open desert. Helicopters flew over and alongside us, TV crews filmed us and the support staff cheered us. The feeling was just unexplainable every emotion seemed to happen at once it was just amazing and it still hadn’t sank in that we had just started the MdS! Having spent some time perusing the road book and it’s maps within I’d a good idea that we had a long flat section across small rocks and a gravel type surface but what was apparent was that the evening before I’d stood on the start line and looked straight across at the dunes and they either weren’t that far away or they where enormous! It was the latter! They didn’t seem to get any closer and we’d been running for a long time.

 

We hit the dunes and in an instant the whole field was reduced to a shuffle – ‘The Desert Shuffle’! It’s was unbelievably hot by this time and I was being very conscious that now in the dunes I was getting baked evenly all over from above and the reflection of heat from the sand. A little like being in a fan oven I suppose! It was relentless and we formed a caravan across the undulating dunes who’s features never repeated themselves. Sometimes it was relatively easy to climb up if you could either follow someone’s footsteps and use them like steps or if you could find fresh sand and manage to stay on top of it. Either way we were rapidly becoming accustomed to finding our way effectively across the ever shifting landscape. After some hours later of plodding along I’d been keeping one eye on my heading and remembered from the briefing that Patrick had said if you follow somebody, remember that they might be going the wrong way. So I tried to always have one eye on the heading and always look where I was when I’d reach the top of a high dune. Eventually the dunes started to reduce in size and a change of terrain became visible on the horizon indicating this part of the dunes was coming to an end. Again it was deceptive as the checkpoint was in view but still a couple of kilometres away. Apparently other runners had exited the dunes quite a few kilometres away from the checkpoint and had to try and find it. I was happy in the knowledge that I’d kept to my plan and was only about 3oo meters away when I’d come out of the dunes. The first CP (checkpoint) and it became obvious that water would be something to really manage as it’s rationed each day and there is only either 1 or 2 bottles issued to you at the CP dependant on the stage. So it was a quick refill of all of my bottles, strap a 1.5 litre bottle across my chest pack and off again. This time the route took us onto a similar surface to the start with hard packed gravel / sand so it was a delight to start running again, well for at least a hundred meters or so before it deteriorated back into soft sand again and the desert shuffle! The wonderful scenery was ever changing as we passed small buildings, vast open spaces and rugged climbs and another CP. It wasn’t long though before we were battling again with the dunes but this time it was the last set before the finish then it was homeward bound. The desert had claimed it’s first victims! I’d already passed unfortunate runners who had succumbed to the heat and dehydration and were being tended to by medics. Also there had been several distress flares set off towards the later part of the day indicating another unfortunates demise from the race. It was an amazing feeling to be jogging / shuffling in towards the first finish line! Over the line your instantly handed a cup of hot ‘Sultan’ tea and it was like nectar! Then you claim your allocated water ration and stagger off to find your tent. It was easy as we had the Guernsey flag flying as Brian, 2 x Alan’s, Mark had already returned and put our flag up. Eventually all of tent 145 was home and the days adventure was discussed over a selection of dehydrated meals & coffee. It was now getting dark though and there was still a large proportion of racers in the dunes and out on the stage, every so often there would be the distant sound and sight of a flare going off. Almost like putting your hand up to say you’ve had enough but with a flare. We chatted more about the day and I studied the map for the next stage and then retired to bed. Another night staring at the stars left me even more happy, especially as I had yet another sunrise to watch.

 

Feeling Happy in the Sand Pit – Marathon des Sables (Part 2)

7th of April, Feeling Happy : Stage 2 – Erg Znaigui – Oued Moungarf – 41 Km

There it was! I’d managed to catch the sunrise, well actually I’d not really been to sleep properly. I’d expected to be absolutely exhausted but nope I’d been waking up randomly all night. I’d sat up to catch sun up and grabbed my camera to catch it, Alan (the 3rd) to my right was also up and had also spent most of the night awake. Everyone else was completely flat out. Sunrise watched and it was time to start my routine of feet prep, kit packing and finally food eating then some impromptu yoga just as the tent vanished! It was bizarre just how quickly the bivouac had burst into life and everyone was going about there individual preparation for the day. Tent 145 seemed to be really organised and we were all ready to go and chatting when we spotted some of the racers that had been excluded after missing last nights cut off. To say that they were upset was an understatement as they walked past us with their heads down and a few tears flowing. We headed over to the giant inflatable start line to listen to Patricks pre stage briefing. Again it was a long affair and we wished some of the racers Happy Birthday who’s Birthday it was on the day, passed our commiserations onto the individuals who had dropped out then danced to the happy song and awaited the first few bars of Highway to Hell. ACDC blasted out of the speakers and the countdown started then we were off on stage 2. The atmosphere was electric and all the emotions were there, the feelings remained the same each day, it didn’t loose its magic. We ran into the desert amongst us there were now racers walking and limping off the start line. The desert was starting to show her colours.

Having studied the road book I’d noted that today was a reasonably flat stage with a few dunes but nothing compared to yesterday. We had started to grasp the desert lingo by now and knew what various terms used to describe the features were (Jebel = Hill / mountain, Oued =  river bed) so by now it was pretty obvious what we could expect underfoot. Today for me was another new experience as I’d decided due to the flatness I’d try out the trekking poles. I must admit I nearly fell out almost instantly with them as I kept on falling over them for the first few kilometres but eventually when I broke into a fast walk they became my best friend. I was slightly conscious of checking my gps as it involved waving a pole about to the side when you twisted your wrist to see it. Yesterday an unlucky racer had come up along someone with poles who had done just that and ended up with his pole up his nose and then slid down a dune landing in a very prickly thorny bush. He was definitely not a happy chap!

However, progress was good and today I’d slipped into preservation mode and decided that focussing on the long day would be my saving. We passed through eerily quite villages with evidence of people but non to be seen. They probably were all inside instead of messing about in the heat of the day (42deg C !). Dried river beds, stony tracks became a regular feature and the heat was baking but there was a slight breeze which sometimes was good until it picked up the sand and blew it straight in your face. Each checkpoint came and went and my usual routine of sock changing, map checking, eating, drinking, yoga (yes yoga!! ) The final kilometres of the day brought with it a climb over some amazing dunes and it was such a relief to be climbing instead of relentless flat ground. I’d noticed some slight hotspots on my feet but decided to press on after arguing with myself that I should stop and look as there was literally only a few kilometres to go. I’d caught up with another racer who commented on the distance we had left to the finish and he said it was 4.7Km I agreed and I asked was that what his gps  said. He replied that he didn’t have one and was using dead reckoning to calculate his progress! I suppose it’s whatever floats your boat but I was astonished as to just how accurate his calculation was. The finish line was within reach and I could almost taste the cup of hot sweet tea presented to you at the end of each stage. It came quite unceremoniously and I made my way back to the tent. I couldn’t help notice more people queuing for ‘Doc Trotters’ (the medical tent) and an increasing amount of individuals hobbling about in a zombie like state. My focus turned to our tent and were we all back safely? We were but blisters had started to appear on a few but in all we were in good spirits and the routine started again…..Feet, kit, food, study the map, sleep (incidentally the feet were ok). Tonight though I’d received more emails from my friends and family and it was unbelievable to learn that so many were following my progress! The warm desert air was as always there to take me off into a semi conscious state of slumber as I couldn’t wait for the sunrise again. This was turning out to be one ‘Hell’ of a race

Another day at the office – Marathon des Sables (Part 3)

8th of April, Another day at the office: Stage 3 – Oued Moungarf – Ba Hallou – 37,5 km

Daybreak and my routine had begun. I’d been already awake waiting for sun up as was one of my tent mates (another Alan) who had already commented about his lack of sleep so far this week. We both seemed to have the same sleep pattern of about 3-4 hours per night! I’d noticed Alan had a really smart piece of kit by way of an ‘Ultralight’ inflatable sleeping mat and did initially feel a bit envious as mine was the wafer thin foam that doubled up as the back-pad of my rucksack. It was entirely a lottery each night as to which part of the desert protruded through it and provided an all night long trigger point massage! Unfortunately my envy had now turned to being completely p*ssed off with Alan’s mat as it sounded all night as if he was sleeping in a family sized bag of crisps! Even when he was breathing you could hear the damn thing making a noise (not you Alan) we both developed a mutual hatred for the thing and every so often during the night I’d see the mat pass over head and out of the tent only to be brought back in by the desert wind crinkling and crackling it’s way back to it’s master! I digress. Meanwhile I’d started my routine – feet, kit, food in anticipation of cheery Berber whisking the tent from our world. Eventually everyone was up and going about their own routine including the other Alan who by now had become a true master of eating his breakfast with a stick, yes I did say a stick! Due to a kit malfunction he had now resorted to using a piece of stick carved by his own fair hand into the very very rough shape of a fork and had now adopted a very primal way of dealing with dehydrated food.

I’d started to get a little complacent with it all and had to keep reminding myself that the ‘Long’ day was almost upon us and today was going to be a key stage to the success of it. My plan was definitely to preserve myself. I’d had the emails from home wishing me well and knew that tonight’s would be the last ones I’d read for 2 days. It seemed as if everyone was wishing me well for the long day and not just the whole race. But as always we started the day with all the usual pomp and ceremony with the helicopters performing their usual routine of low level sideways and backwards flying as we ran out of the start area. I wouldn’t do justice towards the stage if I said it was ‘Same Same’ ie sand, dunes, wadis, rocks but it was and it was stunning. I spent the majority of the day at a fast walk with some occasional running thrown in whenever possible but still reminding myself about the next day and to look after myself. There seemed to be little time on my own today which I was missing as I’m quite an unsociable runner and really enjoy long runs with just my thoughts and the luxury of switching off and taking in my surroundings. However, the day passed uneventfully as I’d hoped apart from an encounter with Patrick Bauer (Race Director) right in the middle of nowhere so I couldn’t resist a photo opportunity. We reached the later part of the stage nearing the finish and the ruins of the ancient village of ‘Ba Hallou’. Just to put things into perspective this village probably dates back to times before the writing of the Bible. It was very grounding to be in an area that largely had not had many humans there for hundreds / thousands of years. The finish line soon became visible and I could already taste the tea awaiting us on the other side of the line. Strangely I’d already started planning my assault on the following day and already had my well practiced routine going through my head. On reaching the tent I’d already started de-kitting and began eating and drinking my daily food allowance. I’d also managed to save some food from my previous day so as the evening progressed I ate what I could and then started giving away food, fuel and anything else I could to make my pack lighter. I’d already cut up my sleeping mat and used it to pad the shoulder straps of my pack as they had decided that my collar bones needed rubbing down! I was amazed that everything was still working and I’d no real niggles and problems apart from 2 small blisters. I looked around the tent and there were some cracks showing amongst my tent buddies with toenails coming loose, blisters forming, joints and muscles hurting. With my feet taped and still eating I settled down to read the evenings messages from home. That was an emotional experience. It seemed that an aging bloke who decides to chase one of his dreams had a lot of support back home. I couldn’t believe just how many people were watching the webcam on the finish line each day and sending so many positive vibes to me and I will be forever in your debt as it really was a huge boost. Anyway I settled into my sleeping bag and stared up at the amazing desert sky with the millions of stars watching over us. I couldn’t help thinking that the next time I’d be looking at the stars we’d be racing through the night of the Long day……..I couldn’t wait.

Better late than never!!! Marathon des Sables (Part 4)

It seems a lifetime ago since my last ramblings and it’s not that I cant be bothered to write or that I’ve forgotten about it. But it seems the pace of life especially work life has out balanced the time that I’ve had to put my thoughts and memories up here in cyberspace! More about that later. But back to the story

9th of April, Better late than never: Stage 4 – Ba Hallou – Rich Merzoug – 81,5 Km

I don’t think that I’d ever get bored with watching the sunrise in this magical place. There was very few people up and about apart from myself and the other Alan who as usual had spent yet another night rustling about on his sleep mat! It was slightly cooler than other mornings and the thought of a bit of a downturn in temperature would be welcome with what we were about to embark upon. I decided I’d make the most of being horizontal as I’d already prepared my feet and kit the night before so I lay there just being nosey and watching the bivouac come to life. It was like ‘Groundhog’ day but definitely not boring. People started to mill about, the water truck arrived, the two camels ‘Charles & Camilla’ appeared on the horizon walking with their Berber towards the bivouac. It was a regular routine for man and beast. Most of the tent was now up and we got each others water ration cards and headed over to collect the first of our daily ration of water. There was an different atmosphere amongst everyone this morning and it was almost as if it was the morning of the first stage all over again.

The tent disappeared again in seconds and a smiling Berber packed it away, whilst everyone started to get serious about the day ahead. We had another photo of our tent all together and it almost felt that this could be one of the last times we would be together, maybe we might not all make it through the long stage. I instantly put that thought right to the back of my head and decided that we all would. We all shook hands and wished each other the well and made our way over to the start line. Now I don’t like being at the front of any race but this morning we were standing right in the front row of the whole race! The top runners who today start a few hours after us came along and shook our hands and wished us well. The press and TV cameras were filming, the helicopters were hovering in the distance and Patrick was starting his countdown. Suddenly a runner collapsed falling face down over the start line and into the sand! The countdown was momentarily stopped and medics rushed to him and pulled him to one side of the start area. The countdown resumed and ACDC Highway to Hell blasted out of the speakers and we were off. Medics and race staff formed a barrier around the poor individual who was now receiving treatment. For some reason it was more overwhelming and emotional than the start on the first day, I can only think that it was because of what was facing us! As always I’d studied the maps and knew we had some very small dunes, flat terrain and an Oued to cross before reaching CP1 at about 10km. Today was definitely all about keeping it together but I couldn’t help run all the way to the first CP.

Then it became apparent it was going to be very very long day when Jebel El Otfal came into view. I’ve got no idea of the height but having spent a lot of time around fells and mountains it looked like something that would be at home in the Lake District! According to the map it was a 12% climb for most of it progressing to 30% for the last 500mtrs in other words Steep!

The climb was relentless and the temperature soared with now wind blowing along a small confined valley all the way to the top, it was becoming hell! Eventually the summit was reached and the view was breath taking. People had stopped for pictures and taking on fluid. I decided that I needed to take advantage of the downhill bit and give my legs a chance to recover. My recovery was to run down as fast as possible! This was probably the quickest I’d moved for all of the race as it was such a relief to bound from rock to rock giving a different muscle group something to do. It was heaven and I made good time all the way to the bottom. It flattened out again and I came across a small group of runners crouching down attending to what sounded like an Italian lady who was crying and very distressed. As I passed I offered my help but they waived me on but I couldn’t help noticing that one of her feet was pointing in what seemed like the wrong direction. Game over I thought and took a little more notice of where I placed my feet amongst the rocks. I’d started playing a game with myself by now and had made a pact with myself that nobody would overtake me until I’d reached the next CP. As always I was greeted with a ‘Bonjour Alan’ by the smiling faces of the CP staff who kindly handed me my water ration. Into the shade, sock change, some stretching and off we go again. We headed of into the huge pass of El Maharch and some welcome shade as the massive rocky walls guided us on our way. The stage opened up across a long flat dry lake with a welcome breeze cooling us as we crossed it. The terrain changed often and this was definitely a day of differing challenges and vistas. CP3 came along and the sun was starting its demise. We headed up another Jebel and pushed on along a ridge for what seemed like hours. The sunset was unbelievable and seemed to go on forever. Crossing the ridge the runners became few and far between but I saw someone heading towards me along the narrow path and he seemed like he was out for a bit of a stroll. I noticed he had no pack on was talking to himself. A few of us asked him if he was ok but none of us got a response he just mumbled and carried on walking. Then I spotted his pack on the floor near the path and it looked like he’d ditched it but shortly one of the race officials appeared who obviously was aware of the racers predicament and acknowledged our concern. At CP4 the organisers were insistent that we put our chemical light sticks on the rear of our packs and wore or head torches before leaving. I was getting a bit giddy at this point with the thought of spending the night out in the desert. I just couldn’t wait!

It was just what I remembered from my time in Iraq. The sky was ink black and the stars where like bright diamonds that went all the way down to the horizon. The air was slightly cooler and I was in my element. At CP5 the there was a green laser pointing towards the sky and was there to guide us to the checkpoint. It seemed to take forever to reach it. I’d decided that at CP5 I’d take a slightly longer break, have some food, double check my kit and feet before heading back out. Also my plan was to crack the long stage within 24hrs and I was already on track as it was well before midnight and I was literally 2Km away from CP5. I wasn’t expecting what I saw at CP5 though! Still smiling the CP staff handed me my water ration and I moved into the CP area. It was like a battle zone. There were people in allsorts of distress sleep, exhausted states. I found a space away from the carnage and sat down to begin my prep for the final push. It was unbelievable, there were individuals crying, snoring, talking and just staring into space. Personally I didn’t feel that bad, I was a little thirsty and felt hungry but other than that everything was fine. It looked like most people were making CP5 their home for the night and waiting until daybreak before trying to move off. On that thought I ate and drank then made my way out of the CP as quickly as possible.

Leaving CP5 I was questioned by one of the support staff if I was ok to be heading out on my own. I reassured them I’d be fine and disappeared into the darkness. I’d started to run away from the CP so that I could be on my own and it didn’t take long before I was all alone with the occasional head torch in the distance behind me. I had about 21km to go until the finish of the stage and after a quick bit of estimating I thought I’d be home within about 4 hours and hopefully arrive at around 3am. I was making good time and decided that at all costs I’d be looking to beat the sunrise so it became a mission to complete this as soon as possible. Covering ground was relatively easily on the hard packed crusty ground and I’d turned my head torch off and used the moonlight to see my way. After a couple of hours it was apparent I wasn’t going as fast as I’d planned and fatigue was setting in. Time for a break and I sat amongst some small dunes and ate some more food. I’d noticed a bit of pain from my right foot in the area of the blister and had been getting worse as the stage went on so together with the food it was time for a ‘Tramadol’ ! Now I’m not sure if that was the right or wrong decision but the next few hours got a whole lot more interesting. CP6 came and went as if it was just a dream and I barely stopped but only to collect water and refill my bottles. It was approx 10km to the stage finish and I was pressing on so I thought. I’d already passed through  lots of camels, seen some elves and goblins around a fire, heard voices in the darkness and was now watching myself trudge across the desert! Non of this actually was real when I looked back on it as nobody else recalls anything that I’d seen so I’d put it down to the earlier Tramadol. This was to be the longest 10km I’d ever done! Glancing down at the gps it was indicating that my average speed was 1km per hour!!!! The sand was like flour and at one point was up to my knees, it was horrible and so difficult to increase speed, eventually the depth of the sand got less and the route followed an Oued that seemed to lined with a hedge on each side. That wasn’t there either but lots of other people recall feeling the same about the Oued. In the distance I could see what looked like two lights about 300 meters away and that was surely the end of the stage. It wasn’t 300 meters away it was nearer to 5km and took forever to reach. Back to running as fast as was possible it just never seemed to get any closer and I repeatedly checked the gps to make sure I wasn’t running on the spot! After an eternity the finish line became visible with the bivouac behind and after a fast run I’d done it. It was amazing and crossing the finish line there was just me, a couple of officials and of course the man with the cup of tea. That was the best brew ever and after a few pictures I collected my water ration and found the tent. Alan was still awake and congratulated me and we whispered about our adventures. It was around 4:30am ( Thursday 10th of April) and I just couldn’t sleep so it was time for a brew and watch the sun come up. Eventually all of our tent was back and we were definitely a group of happy campers all exchanging stories of or journey so far. It was quite a shock when one of the guys said that’s it we are nearly done. Just another marathon to do and we’ve finished MdS! We all nodded and agreed then realised what had just been said. It was as if we were just running a 10k race and nothing to really be that bothered about. It was amazing how we had all changed and it was just another day at the office. We looked around and noted just how many other runners hadn’t returned and there was a steady trickle of runners coming in for the majority of the day. The last competitors crossed the line later in the afternoon and the whole bivouac made their way to welcome them over the finish line closely followed by Charles and Camilla the two camels. I’d dropped back into my usual routine and had everything ready for tomorrow. Most of the day was spent eating, chatting and keeping my feet up whilst watching the many zombie like individuals shuffling past our tent on the way to the Docs. That evening all the emails from home arrived and again it was unbelievable how many people had been supporting me. It was another emotional night reading the messages over and over again before settling down with the map book and looking in disbelief that we only had the one stage to go. It felt like we had been there for a lifetime!

I couldn’t help but feel an little excited that we would be crossing the finish line on the next day but I still had to remember that it wasn’t yet over and the desert would bite you at anytime no matter how beautiful it was if you didn’t pay attention and respect it. Another night under the stars and I knew I would really miss this place and that had been a subject of conversation between us all. I don’t think it took much for me to sleep but the last thing I remembered was that dammed sleeping mat of Alan’s rustling away (apparently it did make numerous unsuccessful attempt to leave the tent during the night but remained with us for the duration of the race!!!)

Note: I’m currently thinking about the final part so hopefully it’ll not be too long before it’s up here.

The Last Leg – Marathon des Sables (Part 5)

11th of April : Stage 5 – Rich Merzoug / Igadoun Tarhbalt – 42,2 km

The last official day of the MdS. I say last official day because the following day we would be taking part in a Charity stage that would not be part of the MdS but would eventually lead us to the bus back to the hotel.

The usual morning routine went on as usual but there was an air of excitement amongst the bivouac. For some they would ultimately meet friends and family at the finish line and for other like myself it was the completion of a wonderful journey. Tent 145 gathered together for another group photo and the obligatory hand shaking and well wishing. I already knew that our spirits were high as was our determination and it would take something very serious to prevent any of us from completing the race. The previous evening we had been chatting away and Duncan had returned from Doc Trotters having just had his feet repaired and he commented that ‘after the sand had been washed out of the blisters and the iodine applied they were now fine!’ There was a pause and Daz commented of how wrong that sentence sounded and especially to the average person. A similar comment was made shortly after about the fact we only had a marathon to do and we had finished! Yes we had changed our thinking and also become different people. Most people would train and taper for weeks before a marathon. We had just completed numerous ones in an unforgiving environment carrying our kit and were about to complete another one! The start procedure happened all over again as it did each morning and before we knew it we were off. I trotted along talking to lots of people as it seemed everyone was excited about the last stage. Initially I’d been following along behind some other runners but the nature of the stage being flat for the first leg I could see for miles and decided that I wanted to be on my own. Taking a slightly diagonal path NW a broke trail and found my own pace. I’d slipped into a trance like state and was just absorbing the atmosphere. This had been going on for sometime when a Land Rover came up along side me and apparently one of the occupants had been trying to catch my attention and I’d completely ignored them. They pulled in front and I had to stop. They asked if I was ok? Absolutely fine I replied, I just wanted time alone and also pointed out to them where I was on the map so they knew I wasn’t lost. I was running parallel to the main field and also I’d been following the front runners route which at the time was pretty much in a straight line all the way to CP1. With a smile and a ‘Bonjour’ they let me carry on following my own route. At CP1 I’d started to reflect about the journey, not just the race but the whole thing some 2 years ago when I decided I was going to have a go. I was almost sad to know that I’d be reaching the end so soon. I laughed to myself when it read in the roadbook that CP1 was in a small leafy valley. It brought pictures to mind of a summers day with a breeze gently blowing the trees and being able to hide from the sun. Not today! the sun was burning it’s way through the slightly overcast skies and the oven like heat was becoming overbearing. Leafy valley my Ar$e!

There was to be just about every type of desert terrain in todays stage and as the CP’s passed it seemed to get progressively harder! There was also notably more people around and the kids were always on the scrounge for anything. I lightened my load by giving away sweets and pepperoni sticks knowing that I would only throw it away at the finish anyway. As the last CP got nearer I didn’t want it to end (I’d change my mind shortly) and we started to encounter small farms and more people cheering us along. The smell of the fresh herbs was amazing and definitely made a change from the normal smell of the desert. At the last CP they said only 10km to go. I asked if I could go back and do it again much to the amusement of the CP staff. I wasn’t joking! At the CP I’d spotted Pete and Danny from the Hope team who I’d met on a few occasions before MdS. They were having a bit of a moment of congratulating each other before they headed off. I sat in the CP and watched and listened to my surroundings trying not to miss a second of it. With a change of socks and a refill of water I set out to complete the final 10km.

Instantly I found myself in a Oued heading West. It was ankle deep soft sand and about 200mtrs wide. It was Hell!! Using my poles I tried to get a pace going but it was useless. It was like being in deep snow and progress from this point was slow. It went on for ever and I passed countless other racers who were just struggling to move. I’d decided to give it everything and carried on regardless until I found a rock step leading me onto the next part of the terrain. This was a huge bolder field with valleys and steep climbs. I was at this point listening to music and was deciding just what track would be the most memorable to cross the finishing line to. The GPS told me I was about 4km away from the end and after a huge rocky climb I could see it in the distance like a mirage. As with all of the stages there was always a sting in the tail and this was some dunes at about 1km from the end. It was now in my grasp and as the finish line grew in height as it got closer I started a fast run. At about 150mtrs from the line there was two other racers trying to help each other towards the finish. One of them was limping really badly and the other was holding him up and trying to move forward. Now I was on a mission at this point and going at it like a mad thing. Something told me it wasn’t the done thing just to race past the two racers but to cross the line with them. So I loaded up my finishing music track and played it at full volume. I got level with the two racers and to my surprise they were Japanese. Grasping the one who wasn’t limping by the arm I shouted ‘Come on let’s go!!’ he in turn grabbed his mate and I pulled them both along like a trailing flag behind me. I had a moment of reflection about what I was doing and what it must have looked like – A 6ft 1in bloke running, shouting and dragging two very small Japanese people behind, one of which couldn’t walk,  at full speed towards the finish line…and my choice of music was ‘PSY Gagnham Style’, this being played loud in my head so I was laughing like I was possessed !!!! I noticed people cheering me on and waiving at me. They probably thought I didn’t know I had two Japanese people attached to me.

I was still laughing when I crossed the finish line and there was a lot of head bowing between me and my new friends, but I think they thought I was some kind of mad man and made a hasty retreat away from me and saying ‘Fank You Werry Much’. I got my moment with Patrick as he presented me the coveted MdS medal and had a dance then gave me a hug. That was it!!!!! It was over, Id done it!!!! The feeling was immense and the cup of tea waiting for us was even better than before. A few tears rolled down my cheeks and I became deliriously happy, talking to everyone and shaking hands. I noticed the two Japanese racers quickly walking / limping away from the finish area glancing over their shoulders in my direction.

That evening in the bivouac there was the prize giving and an appearance by the Paris Opera. It was a surreal feeling to be out there in the desert with all of these people who had their own individual journeys and achievements to celebrate. It was awesome! Eventually tent 145 couldn’t stay awake anymore and we retired for the evening safe in the knowledge that tomorrow we would be walking the short charity stage, getting in a bus and heading to the hotel. I tried to stay awake and listen to the Opera singers magical voice but sleep was getting the better of me. It’s an odd feeling doing multi stage races as your body doesn’t fully shut down during the race but it was as if it knew we had finished and had started to switch off. Sleep came easy and I don’t remember anything, not even the crinkle of Alan sleeping on his mat made from crisp packets.

The following day was so relaxed and we started the stage by gently ambling along and making our way towards the end of the charity stage it was only 7.7km long but it allowed some of the friends and family to walk with us. The purpose of the charity stage is to support UNICEF helping the locals with resources such as schools etc and to emphasise that events such as MdS should give back to the local communities. As we neared the end we came into a small town and it seemed that everyone was out to see us. It was great to see the locals and feel like we were part of it. Buses were waiting for us to take us back to the hotel and it was only a few hours before we would eventually taste that cold beer and relax.

Final Thoughts

It was a journey, a very long journey. I don’t mean the race I mean just getting there. Some say that MdS is a little bit of a parade and it’s lost it’s severity. I and many other would say go and give it a try. It’s not just all about the race it is every aspect of it. I’ve learnt so much on the way and gained many friends. It is one of the most expensive races in the world to do and I for one will probably not be able to afford it again. However, I cannot put a price on the experience as a whole and it will be with me forever, so in the big scheme of things I don’t think it was a bad deal.

I would like to say thanks to the hundreds of people that have and still do support me. You all make a massive difference to me and how I face some of the challenges that I undertake. Thank you to all my sponsors – Team Buff UK, Duel-Fit, Likeys, The Original Power Cookie. We also raised a few quid for the two charities – Pancreatic Cancer Research and Rossendale and Pendle Mountain Rescue.

My biggest thanks goes to my wife and best friend Liz. Without her support over the years I could not do the things that I do. She is always there for me when I’m training and sometimes there waiting patiently at a checkpoint mid -race with all my needs and giving me encouragement to keep going. Love you lots Liz xxx

I can’t miss out my four legged training partner also. Henry, our Springer Spaniel loves it when I’m training for races and sometimes even races with me. I must admit though he’s been the cause of many a fast downhill run or me landing in a bog!

Thanks

AP

In Memory of Steve ‘Scotty’ Scott  my friend – ‘Old Soldiers Don’t Die, They Just Fade Away’ Your not forgotten mate.