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07-Sep-2010 11:50:56 |
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Warren’s Bates account of winning the World 3 |
| 16-Dec-2009 11:33:17 |
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Before that though, it was time to have a sleep. We elected to carry sleeping bags on the trek – a weight
penalty – but we couldn’t risk another night without sleep or the problematic cold. After a couple of
hours on foot we located a small, enclosed, barn and snuggled into our bags and hay covered floor. Two
hours was agreed upon and alarms were set. Four hours later a passing team roused us and we all awoke
annoyed at ourselves for oversleeping. However, one should never underestimate the healing powers of a
good sleep.
We continued on foot with renewed vigour and within a short period of time overtook Nike, Orion and
Llundhags. This wasn’t meant to be part of the script. We could accept the fact that we might race
smarter than the other guys but actually moving faster almost seemed to be insulting. Nike seemed
uncharacteristically downbeat and informed us that they’d been stuck for a long time at the jumar in a
queue (electronic pat on the back for me). Orion were laying on the tarmac looking in a confused manner
at their maps and even had the cheek to ask us if we knew if we could cut the bike short. “Probably” was
our reply as we chuckled our way past. No point moving fast if you don’t know where you are going,
wot wot.
As we passed Llundhags, they lay down on the edge of the path for a sleep. Things were
looking good. We might not have collected the largest number of checkpoints so far but were moving
faster than anyone, had just banked four hours quality sleep and were in tremendous spirits.
Up until the run and bike legs of Stage 4 it had been relatively straightforward to follow our own and
other team’s progress. I’ve heard some bleating from international teams/websites that the race was a
score event or AR rogaining. Nothing could be father from the truth. The reality was that for the first
2/3rds of the race, we’d all been doing standard follow my leader AR with the smallest of nav tweaks
here and there.
The bike leg changed all that temporarily. Some went for all controls having dropped
some on the trek (a daft decision from our point of view given its linear nature); some dropped a couple
having done more on foot. It wasn’t until the end of the biking leg that the implications would be played
out. Had you made a good call? Had you been too defensive and dropped too many checkpoints? Had
you been too bullish, leaving little time for increasingly tight future cut offs? All would be revealed in
due course.
s we entered assistance point 4, the smile on James and Nic’s faces said everything. We had been smart
and had been moving fast. It looked like we had moved up to second place on collected checkpoints and
we were well ahead of the pack in terms of time and thus cut-offs. Fast transition, fast transition, fast
transition, I implored and was rewarded with a humdinger.
Short 10km trek, a 45km paddle and then
we’d be into the last 24hrs. Easy. Unfortunately, someone had put a checkpoint in the wrong place and
we spent 45 minutes looking for it. Finally, we made it to the kayak and we loaded up for a short portage
along a narrow track. I was my usual belligerent self and stormed up the track, only for Nic to scream
“stop you bloody idiot” as I jettisoned a large bag off the back of the kayak and over a cliff below.
Oops. Tired and full of adrenalin, I didn’t take Nic’s comments too well and it’s a shame that the film
crew weren’t there to record what would have been the longest period of bleeps in AR TV history.
In the water I could put my rage to better use and we made good time, cheekily collecting another bonus
checkpoint in the growing dawn. Another transition to bikes and we were off. Things were looking
splendid but then Tom’s brain hit the wall. He’d been exercising the grey cells almost constantly for 4
days and needed a break. A local café looked like a reasonable spot and we bundled in. The old ladies
sitting around the tables looked on in a mixture of surprise, then disgust, and ultimately sympathy as
Nic, Nick and Tom lay on the cold stone floor and began snoring within nano-seconds of reaching
horizontal. I wasn’t going to sleep. I was too pumped and I also fancied tucking into some of the delights
they had behind the counter. We left the café after 25 minutes and waved goodbye. They’ll probably be
still talking about the colourful, stinking, vagrants in years to come.
Bingo. Once again the short sleep provided the springboard for more pace and we quickly overtook a
waning Buff and Quecha – who we knew were already a number of checkpoints behind us.
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