Mike: All right! Another adventure race ahead and this would be a fairly long one. Grant, Pam, and I were very much looking forward to the Gunstock Race put on by the fine folks of Racing Ahead – Norm and Tracyn. All three of us had raced a Mountain Sports Festival 12 hour Adventure Race put on by the same dynamic duo so we knew the Gunstock 24 Hour Adventure Race would be awesome. The anticipation was thick in the air as the 13th of August closed in. Packing, repacking, checking mandatory gear lists over and over, as well as thinking of any possible contingencies and food cravings that might hit us. The excitement was definitely growing and so were our piles of gear, food, and clothes.
The logistics for all of us making it to Laconia, NH would seem a bit daunting but hell we are adventure racers – adversity and challenges are our forte. Anyhow, I was to leave Wednesday night and crash in my truck somewhere along the way to Philly. I was scheduled to meet Bill Gibbons from GOALS ARA at 0830 to pickup the paddles, PFDs, and miscellaneous gear that Grant and I had left at the Krista Griesacker 12 hour Memorial Adventure Race from the weekend before (things were a bit crazy that Sunday). At any rate it was from there to the Philly airport to pickup Pam from her 10:30 flight from Tampa. I had plenty of time to catch up on some reading of Ian Adamson’s Adventure Racing book as well as catch a quick nap. Pam finally walked off of the plane beaming with excitement and radiating from head to toe ( I am a bit biased ?) At any rate, I was extremely happy to see her and I was filled with the energy and excitement we share and this was to be our first Adventure Race together. We were fired up and Ready to Roll! And after a quick stop in Kittery, Maine for some Lobster Rolls with friends we made it to Laconia late that night. I’ll let Pam take over from here…
Pam: We sure were excited! Not only is Racing Ahead a well respected organization within the world of adventure racing, the 24 Hr. Gunstock was to be their final race. For five years racers had enjoyed the bittersweet journeys created at the hands of Norm and Tracyn. They are notorious for pushing racers past their comfort zones and into new discoveries while filling the experience with a large amount of heart and soul. HR Adventure was more than excited to be taking part in such a special event. We invested in climbing helmets, became familiar with devices such as Daisy Chains and Prussics, and faced spaghetti legs as we learned the art of rappelling. (Ok, maybe I was the only spaghetti legged freak, but it was fun.)
The weekend previous to Gunstock, Mike and Grant had a 'warm up' race. They enjoy racing back to back weekends and discovering unknown allergies in the process. (During the final leg of the race a few bees dug into Grant and threw him into an allergic reaction from hell. Thank goodness Mike has wheels for legs, and the rescue crew was handy with the epinephrine.) While Grant was recovering from the scary excitement of the bee incident I was also getting back on my feet. My carb loading was consisting of chicken noodle soup and jello as I cursed a virus that bit me. No one likes to get close to a race and suffer anything less than pure pre-race bliss - eating, organizing gear, smooth tuning of the body and mind, and hopefully sleeping. Oh well, so much for that. Time to tango with a fever and tidal waves of other good things.
Mike: Grant and Jill were a day behind Pam and me. They’re ETA was sometime midday on Friday. That gave us a chance to scope out the town and hit the local convenient mart for some goodies and small gear we were in need of. Later in the morning we headed to Gunstock to grab a trail map or two and check out the scenery a bit. Gear check in was slated to start at 1:00 PM and finish sometime around 8:00 PM with the mandatory team meeting. After hanging out for a bit, we really started to feel the energy - it was time for us to head back to the hotel to meet Grant and Jill and get this ball rolling!
Pam: After doing some reshuffling of Grant’s gear, we said our farewells to Jill (She was off for a reunion with friends for the weekend) and headed off to the gear check-in with a swirl of butterflies in our bellies. We began the rituals of signing forms and gear check-in while peeking at the surrounding environment. Twenty four other teams had made it up for the race and were filtering thru the same process. After a skill requirement check for the rappelling section we went to hunt down our awesome support crew of Andy and Lucy Peloquin and grab some pasta before the race meeting to be held later that night.
With pasta up to our ears we found ourselves back to the Gunstock Lodge and settled in for the pre-race meeting. It was then that I found myself looking around at the other racers wondering if the bridges and parking garages of Fla. competed with the mountains of NH. As we received our maps, race passports, and instructions the various calculations and game plans began to form as Grant, Mike, and I settled into race mode. This was going to be fun! I prayed my legs and lungs would think so too. Back to you Mike . . .
Mike: Whoa! She isn’t kidding when she mentions the butterflies. We all feel that nervous pre-race excitement where our stomachs are doing knots and our legs want to go. But all of those butterflies flew the coup when the maps, instructions, and passports (our precious!) were handed out. It was go time and at that point we become very mission oriented. As we start taking apart the packets and trying to make sense of everything, the first thing I notice is the number of maps. Holy Moly! This CP is on that map and that CP is on this map and all three of the next CPs are on three different maps. What the heck? Anyhow, time to put those away and listen to Norm’s brief and the Adventure Racing Song which was sung by a lady named Jean I believe. Some thought it was corny but I liked it.
It was around 9:30 and we headed back to the hotel to begin the preparations. Andy and Lucy were anxious to start helping but each of us have our own distinct way of preparing, so we thanked them and told them we would see them bright and early the next day. And then it started... With me being the lead navigator, I cleared off our official plastic folding plotting (aka picnic) table and laid all of the maps and race instructions out (that table of Grant’s has served us well in many races). While Pam and Grant began getting all of the gear together, I fretted with the numerous maps trying to make sense of which one I should be looking at for each check point. There were 17 CPs and almost as many maps. Again - What the heck? It seemed like forever that I was looking over maps and I was too hesitant to plot any points in ink because the purple haze of plotting had set in nicely and my eyes were fully crossed. Come on, it can’t be this difficult to figure these daggum maps out! Some were copies from the Gazetteer, others were black and white copies of topo maps, and others were color copies of some other maps. I’m thinking at least two of the maps were from Indiana or some other state far far away.
After about an hour, Pam and Grant were finally slowing down on their hurried preparations. I must have looked like a whooped puppy because Grant came over to give me a helping hand. Thank God he did and when he pointed out the obvious piece of the puzzle that I was missing, everything fell into place. Whew! The ink pen came out and I finally finished. With that over, I handed the maps to Grant to check my work and started on my gear.
It was about 1:30 when we all settled in for as much sleep as possible prior to the race start. With the race not starting until 9:00 the next morning and only being an hour away from the hotel, we felt confident we would get a good amount of sleep. So the lights went out and we did our best to get some sleep.
Pam: Before we knew it the alarm went off and it was time to roll. We stumbled through the process of getting ready, emptying out of the hotel and packing up the gear into Mike's Yukon and the Peloquin support van. There are always last minute 'Where's the canoe section of the map? Who has the sunscreen? Anyone want a banana? Man, I wish I could poop!' It was crunch time and our hearts were pumping. Wahoo!
Becoming as familiar as possible with the surroundings before a race would be ideal. However, many race directors enjoy creating extra flare to their races and hold the race start locations secret until the pre-race meeting. Since the race didn't begin until 9 am the sun was shining and we had the opportunity to scope as much of the area as possible as we drove to the race start. We knew that the race began with a canoe and we were hunting down the Pemigewasset River. With the windows down, we soaked in what we could. The excitement and race adrenaline started to flow even more as we finally entered the race location ready to jump out and start the preparations. The race start was in a small field beside the river. It was turning out to be a beautiful day and many of the teams were already preparing for the start. The final minutes before a race represent months of training, days of organizing, and hours of packing. Great senses of humor become combined with a high level of focus. We strategically choose a canoe that was positioned close to the river. Grant, Mike and I then set out to make our canoe as comfortable and functional as possible. It would be our home for 16 miles. As canoes are only designed for two people to sit in, the third racer requires a creative seat. Being the person in the middle, I was glad to have a crate and a special little cushion to duct tape together into quite the lazy boy. Mike had gotten himself and Grant special little cushions too; we were going to be paddling in style. After making last minute decisions on what to wear, we began to load up the paddles, put on the fancy paper racing jerseys, and don our PFD's. Lucy and Andy, our beloved support crew, stood by and took notes as we made requests for our anticipated needs at the first transition area (TA). With last minute squirts of sunscreen, stretches of the muscles, and adjusting of hats and sunglasses...we were more than ready to get the party started. Norm announced that the teams were to begin loading the canoes into the river and to get lined up for the start. Oh boy, here it was! Lucy and Andy promised to grab some pictures for our scrapbook and we were off, carrying the canoe down to the river.
Mike: Yep and we were the first ones in the river. We picked what we figured would be a prime location against the far river bank. Did I call it a river? What I meant to say was a creek. In fact this was a creek that would eventually feed into the Pemigewasset River. This sucker was about 15 feet wide at its widest and maybe 2 foot deep at the deepest sections. Anyhow, all the boats jammed into the water under the covered bridge that marked our starting line. We were about 8 boats across and 3 deep. While the race volunteers struggled with the large start banner, which was to be held over our heads and then pulled across the water to the other side at the start, all of the racers were chewing the fat and trying to figure out how the heck to stick a paddle in the water when all the canoes were literally on top of each other. And then it happened, bumper boat mass hysteria. Actually it wasn’t all that bad but we did have to dodge that start banner as it narrowly missed clothes lining us. We were off and well on our way to a typical adventure race paddle. In other words, we were prepared for many portages of the canoe.
Pam: This was my first adventure race that began with a paddle, and it was cool. I remember thinking that as far as cardiovascular output goes, with a paddle start at least the lungs would have a little reprieve. Well, the first half hour of canoeing was vicious. Boats battling it out for leverage up the river constantly challenged race etiquettes as canoes slammed into each other for seconds and inches worth of a lead. Grant, Mike, and I worked well together in the canoe and managed to hold ourselves in a reasonable position within the pack. As the creek feed into the river, it granted forgiveness and widened up allowing our arms fall into a rhythm. Remembering the best we could to hydrate and eat we pulled ourselves along and enjoyed the beautiful day and some tunes. (If we were in canoes all of the time, someone might discover our hidden talents for singing and throw us all on Broadway.) The first CP marked half of our paddle. After pausing briefly to dump the water out of the canoe we paddled on and reached the first TA and CP2 at 12:50 p.m.
It felt wonderful to get out of the canoe. That invisible vice that grabs the hips when they sit too long began to sink its teeth into me, and I was excited to get on the bike. Grant, Mike and I ran into that first TA with the intention of getting out as soon as possible. Trading some wet clothes for dry ones, slamming down cold fluids and food, quickly checking over our bike gear for the next leg, and we were outta there.
We learned that we were in 10th place coming out of the TA. There is a complex aspect to adventure racing. Winning is not the end all be all. In fact, coming in dead last may inspire the greatest feelings as racers grace the finish line with their exhausted bodies. The experiences and personal journeys that racers encounter go beyond finish lines. On the other hand, when your team is racing well and things are going your way, there is no doubt that racers want to protect their positions and gain ground. We were all for gaining ground.
The first few miles of the bike were on the road, and it felt great...smooth like butter. Mike and Grant turned on their innate navigation beacons and we began to hunt down the CP's. I was thinking that if the biking stayed like this, I could hold my own. But ya know, those mountains like their elevation. Before we knew it we were on the dirt trails and off into the wilderness. Mike led us to the CP3 like a horse to water. We followed the trails alongside the river for a few more miles before we started going up. This is when the tow came into play. It is no secret that my legs are not in the same ballpark as Grant's and Mike's. And that is pretty weird because I eat spinach and can crush small cars with my pinky, so you know these guys are fast and tough. Regardless, it was tow time. As we continued to bike Mike held out a small carabineer attached to a bungee type rope and said "Here". I took the thing fully realizing what it was; however, I had no idea what to do with it. Before I even had the chance to find a home for the carabineer, the combination of sweaty fingers and a tug from Mike's end of the tow and the carabineer went flying out of my loose grip. "Whapppp!" It is a sound that I still feel guilty about. The carabineer snapped into the small of Mike's back so hard that a purplish red shadow of the carabineer popped up immediately. As Mike yelped out in pain, a guy biking beside me gasped out an “Ah...shit." Oh yes, those moments of "Ah...shits". They are not so fun. Mike took it like a champ and gracefully demonstrated how to use this tow device as he clipped it on my pack strap himself, with a little insurance tug to make sure it would hold. (It is nice when the "Ah shits" are followed by a lesson. We learn and the "Whappps” are reduced.) I rather hurt myself any day of the week then hurt someone else. Sorry Mike, you owe me one!
"The Whappp" didn't slow us down and we began biking again. Mike and I developed communication about the tow as Grant peddled beside us. You could feel the heat of the day as we pushed forward. We reached a fairly steep decline as a few other teams came up around us and I gladly gave Mike back the tow. Downhills are fun. Your eyes search for a clean line as your heart leaps with adrenaline. But then, the racer ahead of you rolls over a small log that turns into a flying death trap. I ducked and swerved out of the way, but a few more seconds after that and I lost it. It was one of those times when your eyes glance to where they shouldn't and your body follows. No big, I have to admit that over the past few years of learning how to mountain bike, I have bounced quite a few times. In fact, I have come to love the scars...it is character. As long as everything works right, it is all good. So, after making sure all was intact it was back in the saddle and ready for more.
Mike: Grant was ahead of Pam and didn’t see her crash but I was riding down the hill behind her. So I got to see the 9.8 somersault she did over the handle bars followed by the nose dive into the dirt. OK 9.8 might be too high of a score to have given her but I was giving her points for her enthusiasm. It turns out she took it much better than I did. After I yelled to Grant and fretted over Pam’s well being, we were back on the bikes heading down hill.
Pam: In between CP4 and 5 our tires graced the paved surfaces of roads again. We road past a few pastures, quaint neighborhoods and learned that small town hospitality pays off. Grant got a flat as we were heading down a hill right in front of a house. While Grant changed his tire, we decided to take advantage of the stop and top off our water. I gathered our bladders and went up to knock on the door. Covered in dirt, sweat, and blood I think that I scared the woman who answered. She gave me a questioning look over and pointed out the hose on the side of the house. After she told me we were welcome to use her hose, she quickly shut the door, and probably locked it. With a new tire and freshly filled bladders we were on our way to CPs 5 and 6.
Mike: Anyhow, our days of paved roads didn’t last long and next thing we knew we were pedaling over rough terrain again. OK, so there really wasn’t much pedaling to be done. Even with my 29er tires I wasn’t going to be rolling over the boulders on the4x4 trail which was much more appropriate for a quad or monster truck. Well we were desperately short on both so we hiked. Yep we hiked our bikes. My bike and I have a love/hate relationship when this happens. I’m thinking the whole time that it needs to go on a diet – a diet of carbon fiber and titanium. Did I say I had 29ers? Yeah well they don’t help much when you are pushing. So we pushed and climbed and rode when we could until we crested the hill to meet the gents manning checkpoint 7 at 7:23 in 11th place.
Even though we had been hike a biking for quite a while and pretty much drained our bladders again, we were feeling pretty good at this point considering we only had one more checkpoint before our next TA at Gunstock and a lot of that was going to be downhill. We wanted to haul butt and get there before sunset so off we went. Since we were running pretty low on water, we decided to stop at a lake on the way to CP8. I broke out the water filter and handed it to Grant. Pam and Grant pulled out their water bladders and headed into the lake. I was straightening out some stuff in my pack while they stood in the water and started to fill the bladders. I walked over to check on the status and noticed some small black things swimming around their ankles. I looked up at Grant and Pam and said ‘Hey, I think those are leaches.’ They came flying out of the water and the leaches attached to their ankles followed. They started flailing, swatting, and saying things like ‘Oh crap’, ‘Nasty’, and ‘That sucks’. I finished filling their bladders while they were squishing the last of the leaches. It’s funny but we weren’t so thirsty anymore. So we packed everything up and hit the trail. We were really making progress and finally hit pavement again. I have to admit that on any other day I would much rather be tearing up a dirt trail but it sure was nice to be riding in a pace line on a smooth paved road. Grant led the way with Pam in the middle and me pulling up the rear. I figure it is safer back there away from any rogue bineers. OW! My aching back… ?
Holy crap, is that the Gunstock sign?! One left turn and a few minutes of pedaling and we'd be eating those red beans and rice and mashed potatoes that we had been dreaming about since leaving the last TA. As we pulled into the horse rental area of Gunstock at 8:46 p.m., the sun had set nicely and it was plenty dark. Grant and Pam went to check in and discovered that we were in 11th place, while I rode around yelling for Andy and Lucy like a kid who has lost his mom and dad at Wal-Mart. I gotta say it sure was comforting to hear their voices and to know that we were a few minutes away from a plate full of goodness. Did I mention we were hungry?
Once we all settled in to Andy and Lucy’s care, we started working to get out of the TA as soon as possible. The final section of the race was a trek up, over, around, and back over Gunstock Mountain. We were all looking forward to that trek and the ropes course that waited us at CP13. This TA was CP9 and we had to get to CP11 by 12:00 AM to make the cutoff for the long course and the ropes. With that said, man those red beans and rice and potatoes smelt and tasted good. Holy Moly! My mouth is drooling now just thinking about it. Andy and Lucy, thanks for kicking butt for us! You guys rock! Anyhow we were a bit long in the TA and got out in around 30 minutes. The winning team was out in something like 7. If we were smart, we would have thrown Andy and Lucy at them with that pan of Red Beans and Rice to slow them down. So with climbing gear, helmets, New Balance, Salomons, fresh supplies of water and food, and fat bloated happy bellies, we were off.
You know how your mom always told you to wait thirty minutes after eating before going in the water? I think the same theory should apply to climbing up and over Gunstock Mountain. Those beans didn’t taste so good the second time around. Can you spell acid reflux? Well I can’t either but my spell check caught it. Anyhow up we climbed. CP10 waited for us on the other side of the mountain and we knew that the trails would be the quickest route. We noticed some teams climbing up the super steep ski lift section while we choose less direct but faster fire road leading to the top. I’m sure the view from the top was spectacular and to be honest the clear star filled night was awe inspiring but as far as seeing anything else, man it gets dark in New Hampshire with the crescent moon. Our goal was to find the Gunstock Mountain trail. It was a huge white trail on the map but it wasn’t so neatly marked on the top of that mountain. We did see another trail going in what was pretty much the right direction and we took it. Hell time was a wasting and we had a cutoff looming an hour and a half ahead of us.
It was about thirty minutes of walking when we came to another intersection with a trail where we could pinpoint exactly where we were. Yeah it would get us to CP10 but it sure wasn’t the Gunstock Trail. Lesson learned here, if you have committed to a path find a way to the next checkpoint from where you are at. Do not go back! Guess what we did? Yep we went back. It took us 30 more minutes to get back to the top of Gunstock. Where the heck is that daggum Gunstock Mountain Trail? We looked for it for about 15 minutes and conferred with other lost souls before Grant and I decided we had to move. Wanna take a guess which route we took? Yep, the one we had just come from. So we hiked back down 30 another minutes to where we were originally but this time we kept going. I think we went through Kansas to get to that next CP but we eventually found it. Time to haul that same butt to CP11. At this point we had about 30 minutes to spare before the cutoff.
This leads me to one funny story that I’ll let Pam tell and one realization. The realization was that my headlight seriously sucked and I need a hugely bright spotlight strapped to my head. And the funny story started when we crested the top of a hill about 200 meters from CP11 and a few minutes past midnight. Yeah we were late but we were having a blast. Thanks Norm and Tracyn!
Pam: With the sliver of moonlight, the gleaming of the stars, and the faint glow of our headlamps, it looked like we had landed on the moon as we crested the mountain. Grant, Mike and I knew we were close to CP 11 and were all hopeful that the time cut off for the full race course had been lifted. We began trekking in search of CP11 over the uneven surface of the boulders. As we paused for a brief moment to get our bearing, Grant took notice of some unidentifiable shapes in the distance. "Hey, are those Igloos?" As we all turned to look closer, a voice came from within the shapes and told us that the CP was just up ahead. Turns out that the shapes were tents, go figure. The campers were probably bothered all night by racers, or this was one darn good hallucination that we all experienced together. As we reached CP 11 we learned that the race cutoff time remained. We were the first of several teams to reach CP11 after the cutoff and hence be short-coursed. Our excitement in racing the full course and taking part on the rappel took a little blow but did not stiffen our strides. You never know walking into a race what you will find, but we did know that we would race our hearts out and we still had ground to cover.
We covered many miles on the trek that night; all were either up or down. The trail we followed to take us to CP16 was marked by blue blazes. The trail was tough to follow with it as dark as it was and the blue blazes were sporadically placed. At one point we were climbing up a mountain of boulders and searching for those blue splotches of paint to guide our way. Climbing over those rocks and looking for the hidden blazes made me wish that I was a mountain goat with night vision goggles. At this point in the race, we were having a lot of fun and feeling like kids. Here we were climbing over huge boulders and jumping around the woods in the middle of the night when the rest of the world slept in soft beds. Gotta love it.
As we made our way closer to CP16, the last CP before heading back to the race finish, Grant's headlamp batteries died. With no replacements, Mike and I kept Grant in between us in order to provide Grant some visibility in covering the unsteady terrain. Our team dynamics throughout the race were strong and this seemed like a perfect way to head home. As we found our way to CP16 we spent a few minutes chatting with the volunteer to learn what we could about the status of the race. With the impression that we were in 5th place we enthusiastically continued on our way to the finish line. We climbed back over Gunstock Mountain and began the steep trek down the zigzag fire road of unruly rocks. The finish line was in view, lit up at the bottom of the mountain. As we took caution in our steps, Grant, Mike and I enjoyed reflections of the race and our feelings in regards as to why we love this sport. It is a challenge to describe in words why adventure racing lightens us up the way it does. The extreme ups and downs continually expose who we are and what we are made of as we dig deep and explore ourselves as well as the land around us. The more subtle aspects of racing and what transpires in a race are harder to articulate. As we crossed the finish line, we knew that we would continue our journey thru adventure racing, and discovering many more subtle aspects that one day we may be able to put into words.
Mike: We must have been walking slowly because two teams passed us between checkpoint 16 and the finish line. We ended up finishing 8 minutes behind those two teams putting in 7th place overall and 4th in the coed category. We crossed the finish line at 4:37 in the morning and it was great to see Andy and Lucy waiting for us there. What a great race, a great finish, and a collection of great memories…
