High Insanity: Patagonian Exped Race

On the race, Paul started out with a messed-up ankle from a training mishap at Black’s Beach in late January. But his $50 ankle brace served him well. Turns out, though, that the limited ankle mobility (while protecting his ankle) led to some serious knee problems, as well as his ankle on the other side having to work overtime.

Paul was hobbled on the downhills starting about three days into the race, and the sounds that escaped his mouth during our many long, arduous descents were akin to what I imagine torture would sound like. Still he never hinted at quitting. On the upside, he was strong as ever on the up-hills, and he would have gladly climbed for miles and miles. . . and we did that too.

Chelsey managed to twist her ankle quite badly, too, during the race so by the last day as we tried to hold on to 2nd place, and even 3rd place then, we looked like a parade of the infirm.

More stories to come, but a few of my favorites now. . . Coming into CP17, we were four hours behind the Japanese team, and we decided to gamble on a straight-line bushwhack through a valley in the night with only two hours of tent-less sleep. In the predawn light, just before the glacier pass at CP18, we came upon the Japanese. They were clearly surprised [they had been ahead for a while] and yet they greeted us warmly, forming a line with each one of them shaking each one of our hands, smiling, and saying “Good to see you.” It was surreal. They then shared a look and bolted. [Note: Team Eastwind, from Japan, ended up beating Team GearJunkie/YogaSlackers by about 30 minutes in the 10-day race.]

We reached CP18 a minute behind Eastwind, just as a blizzard (FULL ON) hit. It was crazy to be racing in those conditions — 40mph wind and snow blowing right into our faces blinding us. We’d hold on to Chelsey on the treacherous slopes to keep her from blowing away as we picked our way down, trying to drop below the snow level.

Sometime in the next hour, Paul and I both took a fall, breaking a trekking pole, so I gave him mine and went without poles. An hour later, still in the snowstorm, we were crossing a river when I slipped on the slimy rocks, did a crazy dance to try to get balance, and lost, falling on my back and going completely underwater. At this moment, reality set in, and the race instantly turned to survival.

We spent the next several hours fending off my hypothermia, (and eventually Chelsey’s own battle with it, too) as we tried desperately to drop below snow level. In the end it was no avail, as the snow in that storm reached all the way down to the ocean.

The next 10 hours were both long and beautiful, as we encountered every possible form of terrain Patagonia has to offer. It was as if that last trekking leg from CP18 to CP19 was a microcosm of the entire race, from difficult turbal (swamp), dense bushwhacking, rocky ridges, hateful beaver damns everywhere, alpine lakes and tundra, countless river crossings, and everything wet wet wet.

In the end, we were less than 30 minutes behind the Japanese (the final times are pretty messed up on the race site, we had a 1:15 credit against Eastwind, and somehow they gave it to them instead of us; but the placement is right).

There is a whole other story from the trek between CP12 and CP13 when Ann begged us to follow the red line on the map (the recommended route) and we went up and over the unknown passes anyway, far off route. We made some first ascents, according to the locals who knew, and we named our never-before-climbed passes “Paso GearJunkie” and “YogaSlackers Col.”