La Misión

 

LA MISION

After many years of running marathons and more recently ultra-marathons this year I finally decided to go for my ultimate challenge - to complete the La Misión, the toughest ultra-marathon in South America. To give me an extra incentive I decided to also compete with the idea of raising money for three charities - Promujer in Argentina, the Laski educational centre for the blind and the Warsaw Childrens' Hospital in Poland .  

By way of preparation this year I ran three ultra-marathons - 80km in the Welsh hills in March, 84km in the mountains of Austria in July and 56km in Northern England in October six days after doing the Warsaw marathon. Generally though since the summer I trained by running 10-15km in the woods near my home three or four times a week, working out on an alpine step machine at home and taking up pilates.

But La Misión would be quite different - a 160 kilometres race in the mountains and forests of the Argentine Andes with 8000 metres of climbing, carrying a rucksack with all I would need for three days in the open. 

 

Tuesday 11th December

After 4 flights from Warsaw-London-Sao Paulo-Buenos Aires-Bariloche and a bus ride I arrived on Tuesday afternoon in the small tourist town of Villa La Angostura nestled between the lakes and mountains of the Argentine Andes and home of this year's La Misión.

After checking in and getting my race number 249 I found I was the furthest travelled of the 377 competitors. Proudly representing Poland I was among a handful of Europeans from France and Spain. There were also competitors from the US and Mexico but the rest all were from South America especially Argentina, Brazil and Venezuela.

I then bought my supplies of biscuits, bananas, chocolate, sweets, water and batteries to keep me going through the race. In the evening there was a technical talk to give us all the instructions and then, under a steady rain, I made my way back to my hostel and a big plate of pasta and an early night.

  

Wednesday 12th December

Overnight the rain became heavier and continued until 5 am but I had a fairly good sleep. I awoke to see fresh snow on the tops of the mountains. It was wet and windy. I had breakfast and spent the morning repacking my rucksack which weighed somewhere around 12kg and studying the route before the race start at 12.00.

Under cloudy skies the 377 competitors lined up at midday. I deliberately chose to start near the back hoping for a psychological boost by later overtaking others rather than being overtaken. We were paraded for the first few hundred metres through the main street of Villa La Angustura to the cheers of the locals before heading out of the town and up a track leading to the forests and the start of a long climb of almost 1000 metres to the first checkpoint at 8 km.

The going was slow at the start. Apart from the cohort of early leaders who sprinted off ahead the narrow uphill trail meant that the rest of the competitors were strung out in a long line with overtaking difficult. As we climbed the weather worsened. The wind got up and it began to hail. Emerging from the tree cover at around 1400m I saw that the mountain top was covered in around 30 cm of volcanic ash from the eruption in June 2011 of the nearby Puyehue volcano that had resulted in the closure of Buenos Aires airport and ironically interfered with my familiarisation trip to Poland. 

The ash was thick and damp like wet sand and made the ascent harder-going than on the rocky path I had expected. The wind blew it around stinging our faces but the view was so spectacular that I removed a glove to take a picture only for the wind to whip it away. No glove and still 154km to go! 

I struggled on, picking off a few of the others on my way through the snow and rocks to the summit at Cerro Bayo (1763m) before running down the winding descent past the ski slopes to the bottom of the valley 700m below. 15km gone so I stopped for a quick snack before heading along 9km of gently rising track which involved multiple river crossings of freezing water so cold my feet were soon numb. Nearing the end of the valley the gradient increased. Another quick stop at 6pm for a bite before climbing out of the trees to reach the pass between two mountains at 24km before a welcome downhill section of 7km all the way to a river intersection at Horqueta del Cataratas.   

From there we headed south along another long valley to the 44km mark which I reached around 11.30 pm. At a checkpoint located in a rough wooden pen for animals there was a fire and around a dozen runners had already decided to camp for the night rather than continue in the dark and cold. I was tired but feeling good and wanted to get to the next checkpoint at 58km before stopping but we had to wait to climb in groups of four as conditions were becoming difficult due to the wind and the fog affecting the top of the mountains. I waited an hour for a group to form while I changed out of my damp socks, put on all my clothes, rested and ate.

At 12.30 a.m. four of us started the 800m climb to reach Co O'Connor in silence, panting from the exertion of the steep path. As we left the tree cover two pulled away from me as I in turn pulled away from the other and soon found myself alone. It was very cold. The freezing wind penetrated my five layers of clothing but the display of stars in the night sky was incredible. I reached the first summit at 1822m around 3 a.m. from where the path continued for 4km along a ridge including three more summits. At the top the wind was hurricane force knocking me sideways as I struggled to pick my way through the rocks and snow. Progress was very slow but worse was to come as the mist swirling around the mountains became thicker and after about an hour became so dense that I lost sight of the markers indicating the path. After a while I saw a light a little way further on and headed in that direction finding that it belonged to the headlamp of a Brazilian who was also lost. It was freezing cold. I was exhausted. It was 4 a.m. on top of an 1800m mountain. I could see the lights of the houses 1000m below in Bahia Manzano where the checkpoint was but they were some 6km away and we had lost the path that would lead us down. I decided to head down and try to find my own way and encouraged  the Brazilian to join me but he decided to stay and wait for the fog to lift.

It was hard going down the rocky mountainside strewn with thick volcanic ash but slowly I descended until reaching the trees which meant I was around 1400m and nearly halfway down. A few minutes further on I slipped and fell several metres down the slope, trying to break my fall with the nordic walking sticks I was using to keep balance. Deciding that fatigue was a contributing factor and that sleep would be a good idea. I pulled on my rainproof trousers for extra warmth and simply lay down on the only piece of flat ground I could find without bothering to put up my tent.

Thursday 13th December

After a short sleep of some 40 minutes I was awoken by the daylight and the cold. It was 6 a.m. Struggling to my feet I found one of my sticks a few yards away. Trying to break my fall the lower part I had stuck into the ground was now bent out of shape but it was still better than nothing. I continued my slow descent sliding down into what was becoming a steep-sided valley until I reached a small rocky stream. I calculated that following this stream would lead me down to the lake from where it would be easy to find the checkpoint. There was no path and the sides of the ravine were so steep that I had no option but to walk down the stream, on rocks where possible but more often than not through the icy water while climbing over the trees that had fallen down into the stream.

Suddenly I came to an abrupt halt. Ahead of me the water disappeared from view with the tell-tale sound of a waterfall. I crept as close as I dared and saw a drop of some 15 metres. It was impossible to continue downwards so I had to find a way to climb up the sides of the ravine. The sides were extremely steep. I was tired, carrying a heavy rucksack and many of the branches I tried to pull myself up with were rotten but eventually I made it up the muddy 10 metre climb and worked my way down again to where the stream had resumed its normal course. At one point I slipped and fell several metres down into the water, bruising myself on the rocks, but fortunately no worse than that. Another waterfall appeared, then another and another, each time the climb out was tougher but after four hours struggling to get out of the ravine, the terrain began to flatten out. I had made it. I trudged the remaining couple of kilometres, reaching the checkpoint at 58km after just over 23 hours since the start.

I was positioned around 260 at this point having made up some time by not spending the night at the campfire but lost time since losing the trial. I was exhausted but with still over 100kms to go before the cut-off on Saturday afternoon I could not afford to rest for long. A change of socks and the bandages to protect my feet, two cups of tea and a dodgy burger and I was back on the road for a flat 8kms along the lake to the next checkpoint.

It was a hot day, very different from the day before and after 2kms I realised quite how tired I was as I was feeling a little light-headed and starting to wander slightly as I walked. Although I was worried about losing more time and wanting to get as far as I could before nightfall and have a proper sleep under canvas I could not resist the temptation of a little siesta so lay down  in the sun and slept for an hour. Mildly refreshed I picked myself up and was encouraged as I passed several others before reaching 66 km and turning into the next valley. For the next six hours I followed the path, stopping every hour for a drink, filling my water bottles in the streams and eating sweets to keep my sugar levels up.

The path wound up and down along the valley through a rich deciduous forest before emerging again in a field of volcanic ash. After crossing this desolate landscape at around 7 pm in a small group there followed a very steep descent, another valley and another climb onto an exposed ridge where the wind tore at us ferociously. It was now dark. I lost the buckle on my helmet and so had to hold onto the strap with my teeth while struggling up the climb just as the batteries on my headlamp died, but fortunately there was enough light from the three people in front of me to allow me to make my way down a further 2 km, just far enough to reach the shelter of the trees and the first flat spot I could find. It was just after 10 pm and I was at 86 km. Too tired to bother with putting up my tent I put part of it on the ground, crawled into my sleeping bag and put the other part on top and went to sleep. Half an hour later I felt the first drops of rain which fell intermittently through the night.

Friday 14th December

 

After a fitful night interrupted by the showers I awoke at 6.00 am cold and shivering. The piece of the tent I had laid over me had blown off in the night and my sleeping bag and I were wet. My rucksack and the spare clothes and socks inside were soaked. Cold as it was inside my sleeping bag I knew it was warmer than outside and it took me a few minutes to convince myself that getting up was a good idea. With shaking hands it was hard to bandage my feet and put back on my wet socks and running shoes. I had made little progress the previous day - a little over 30kms. There was still over 70 km to go so i had better get started. I took an ibuprofen (Ibuevanol of course!) in what I knew was a futile attempt to ease the pains in my legs and struggled to stuff my wet tent and sleeping bag into my rucksack. I had one cheese sandwich left and chewed it piece by piece as I started out at 6.30.

The first 13 km were fairly flat and I was able to jog along at a good pace although slowed by multiple river crossings that chilled my feet. I passed a few others and began to cheer up as the weather reluctantly improved. After a crossing of the thigh-deep Rio Minero at 101km I started the 700m climb of La Piedrita, a very steep mountain which took 2.5 hours as part of a small group of 4 I had joined. I pulled away during the descent, picking up speed on the 1000m down to the village of Villa Traful and the checkpoint in a church hall.

The sight was more akin to a field hospital in the First World War. Bodies were lying all over the floor on mattresses, sleeping or resting, some revealing blisters and other injuries. Many had defeat written on their faces, knowing that this was as far as they were going to be able to go. Others just needed to rest and recover strength for the last push - just under 50kms to go. The only food on offer was another burger so I braved one, washed down with two cups of tea and loaded up on sweets and energy bars left by those who had abandoned the race. After an hour's break I needed to get going if I was to reach the finish before morning. I did not want to repeat my experience of being out of the mountains at night. It was now 2.30 in the afternoon.

The next stage was 9kms along the shores of Lago Traful which brought back happy memories of a holiday there ten years previously. I continued to pick off other competitors, slowly moving up through the field as the path then moved inland again, up through valleys and forests, again crossing multiple streams but by now I was on a roll, knowing that I was going to make it and finish sometime in the early hours, well before the cut-off time of 76 hours. Every step brought me closer as 120kms became 130 and then 140. By nightfall at 9.30 pm I had reached Col tres Nacientes with less than 20kms to go.

There followed the hardest part of all - a terrible 300m climb up a very steep path through deep volcanic ash covering the rocks that made it difficult to gain a foothold. The wind howled around the exposed mountain face. Every step was an effort as aching limbs fought the wind and gravity trying to pull me down. It was dark by now and I could see the lanterns of those climbing behind me who all seemed to be finding it easier. The path got even steeper. To reach the very top we had to haul ourselves up pulling on a rope. When I reached the checkpoint at the top I was relieved that what I hoped was the worst was now over.

Again the path took us along a narrow ridge climbing to two further peaks. Far away I could see the warm lights of Villa La Angostura waiting for me but there were 15kms to go and I was again on top of a mountain in the cold and dark with the mist closing in. I tried to keep up with the others that had passed me on the climb but then I fell awkwardly and landed against a rock. For a moment I thought I had injured myself but it was just a bruise but I lost time and soon again found myself struggling to see the markers in the mist. I was lost again.

Disheartening though this was I was determined not to repeat the experience of two nights previously. I retraced my steps and after peering through the mist for a few moments saw a faint light of the fluorescent marker down to the left. This meant I had reached the last summit at 1780m and could start the descent to the finish. Gingerly making my way down through the thick volcanic ash, my gloveless hand and feet frozen, my legs aching and my eyes straining for each marker I slowly reached the treeline where I found a group of four competitors recovering from the descent.

We set off together through the undulating forest along a trail that seemed to go up then down then left then right but never closer to the end. By now it was early on Saturday morning. I was exhausted and every step hurt. I was dreaming of nothing more than a hot shower and a warm bed and the miniature bottle of red wine saved from the British Airways flight to Sao Paulo waiting in my suitcase back at the hostel. We lost the trail and then refound it. Two of the group fell back but accompanied by a Venezuelan and a Brazilian I managed to keep on plodding the last few kilometres to reach the town a few minutes before 3 a.m. and the finish where we were given a hero's welcome, a medal and a very welcome hot cup of tea.

Mision accomplished in 62 hours 32 minutes. I came 186th out of 377 starters of which only 260 actually managed to complete La Misión.

At the end I had blisters and cuts on legs and ankles, loss of feeling in the ends of fingers and toes, chaffed shoulders, bruises on thighs, lost toenails and a sprained wrist. These will heal in time but my memories will last a lifetime. As well as that I will have raised around £15,000 for the three charities.

Please take a look at this video for some beautiful images of La Misión:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=TDUk7H6x_gU#!