Caballo Blanco
Caballo Blanco was best known through Christopher McDougall’s book, Born to Run. Chris met the mysterious man in New Mexico on his fascinating search for the lost tribe of ultra runners – the Tarahumara Raramuri. Living in the rugged Copper Canyon of the Sierra Madre, they run monumental distances simply as a way of life. Caballo Blanco (Micah True) managed to organise an 80km race through the canyons – the Caballo Blanco Ultramarathon.
Tragically, on Tuesday 27th March, Micah went for a 12 mile trail run in New Mexico and never returned…
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The Skyrunner Manifesto
Kiss or kill. Kiss the glory or die trying. Losing is death, winning means breathing. The struggle is what makes a victory, a winner.How many times have you cried of rage and pain? How many times have you lost your memory, your voice and your judgment because of your tiredness? And in this situation, how many times have you been thinking: Try again! A couple of hours more! Another hill! Pain does not exist, it is only in your head! Control it, destroy it, delete it, carry on! Make your opponents suffer, kill them. I am selfish, am I not? Sport is selfish because one has to be selfish to be able to fight and suffer, to love loneliness and hell. To stop, to cough, to be freezing, not feeling one’s legs, to feel nauseous, to vomit, have headache, a shock, blood running down your body… Have you got something better to offer me?
The secret is not in the legs. It is to find enough courage to go out and run when it’s raining, windy, when it’s snowing. When flashes of lightning hit the trees. When snowballs or ice rain hit your legs, your body and make you cry. To continue, you have to dry the tears from your face to be able to see the stones, the obstacles, the sky. Forget some hours of party, face tens of reproaches, say no to a girl, to the warmth of the blanket covering your face… Send everything to hell and go out in the rain until your legs bleed after having fallen down and risen again to keep running up… Until your legs shout: ENOUGH! And leave you alone in the middle of a storm in unknown mountains… until death.
Shorts drenched by the snow, brought by the wind that slaps you face and freezes your sweat. Light body, light legs. Feel the way the pressure of your legs and the weight of your body are concentrated on the metatarsus of your feet’s fingers, exerting a pressure capable of breaking stones, destroying planets and moving continents. With both legs in the air, flying like an eagle and running faster than a cheetah.
Or when you are going downhill, when your legs sink in snow or mud, just before pushing
forward, and make you feel free to fly, scream of rage, of hatred and love in the heart of the mountain, where only the bravest rodents or birds can become your confessors, hidden in their nest under the rocks…
They are the only ones who know your secrets and your fears. Because losing means dying. And you cannot die without giving your best, everything, without crying because of pain and injuries, you cannot give up. You have to fight until death. Glory is the greatest thing, you cannot reach it without giving everything you have. You have to fight, suffer and die. Without that, nothing is worth it. The time to suffer has come, the time to fight has come, the time to win has come. Kiss or die.
[Except from Correr o Morir by Kilian Jornet]
Aniwhenua
Rafting the Rangitaiki |
Beyond Rotorua you venture into thick country. Classic North Island outback where the most popular past time is heading out to the bush to hunt wild pigs. As our van and trailer-load of kayaking gear bustled into the bush just out of Murupara I half expected to bump into Sjors Corporaal running along the forest road with a boar carcass on his back.
Instead, a massive windfall from last week’s storm had plummeted exactly twenty-six thick pine trees across the entrance road to the Rangitaiki River. Our plan to raft down the grade 2-3 mid-section of the rampant Rangi was now foiled, no-one was game enough to try carrying the 40kg plastic inflatables down the mile-long obstacle course. We retreated to the Aniwhenua to salvage the day.
Aniwhenua Falls |
Aniwhenua Falls is spectacular in full flow. A tumultuous accelerates from the still canal in a moment, exploding into the get-in hole. The more experienced kayakers were having a crack at paddling off the falls, nothing to it right? Nothing but a rocky ledge to the left side, its all about the line. The rest of us were launched off the power station walls…
Thrown into the deep end |
Reacquainted mate after 6 years, Scott Osborne was one of the first in, fortune had it that he flipped over as soon as his kayak plunged into the boils. The stage was his as he busted out a clean roll to show its done.
Rafting up before hitting the first rapids |
The Aniwhenua river run is 8km in length, with about 8 sections of rapids separated by longer stretches of calm flow. Getting the rapids was a simple case of leaning forward and powering straight into the wave trains, each stroke keeping my unstable Bandit stable.
A river rat infiltrates Richard’s kayak! |
Out of the red zone, relaxing, right way up |
Bernoulli’s equation now gained new meaning as we emerged from the narrowest section of gorge, the river valley really widened out just and as sun finally broke through. Stiff and cramping up as we limped up the bank carrying our kayaks, what a relief it was to be back on dry land!
I revelled in the new experiences that I’d had on the Aniwhenua. The moments that follow overcoming personal boundaries are always the best. It was awesome to get to know a whole new club – AUCC are a great lot and I’ll be back for more white-water this easter for their most remote trip to the Mohaka River near Napier. Four days away camping in real North Island wilderness, I can hardly wait.
A taste of the Mohaka… |
A Glitch in the System
After a prolific year and a monumental summer exploring the mountains around Nelson and Taranaki…
While barefoot running along the slippery Okura coastline, my toes lodged into the sand and I suffered a painful, twisted landing. As I fell, my knee twisted and wrenched delivering a double shot of hyperplantarflexion to my left foot. I lay writhing in a salty puddle, hoping I could walk it off…
Only Okura? Never under-estimate the Okura. 400m past this point, and it was all over. |
Luckily, this was a fundraising walk for the AUTC Oxfam Trailwalker team, and I had the choice of 40 trampers to carry me the 3km back to the Stillwater carpark. Exhausting work just hanging on while my limp foot began to stiffen and swell; I was glad we weren’t any further from the road. [Yes, a gentle reminder about safety in the outdoors…]
Despite life in crutches being hard work and often frustrating, there’s still plenty of adventure to be had. Inability to run doesn’t mean I’ll get fat – climbing the hill from Britomart to University makes for a huge upper torso workout, by the end of the day my shoulders are burning under the stress.
One of the many skills to be mastered on crutches |
There is never a “convenient” time to be injured; it was likely to happen sooner or later. In my mind, it is better to be injured now while studying in Auckland than while ploughing through the mountains of the South Island.
The 24 hour adventure race in Northern Coromandel involves sea-kayaking, mountain-biking, running, and navigation. As well as a few mystery activities! Which will remain a mystery for now… |
I’ll be postponing my entry to the world of adventure racing – this weekend’s “Jurrassic Arc” 24-hour adventure race in Northern Coromandel will go on without me, but with Edward Lawley stepping in its a relief that the team isn’t affected. Go team Celebrate the Day!
New Balance MT110 – only available in USA. Time to make a truce with your mates in the states. |
An extra kick to the guts, my much anticipated pair of New Balance MT110 trail running shoes arrived from BOULDER, COLORADO the day after the injury. New Balance is getting excruciatingly close to creating the perfect shoe – partly designed by Anton Krupicka himself. Sporting a 4mm heel drop, nicely balanced tread pattern, more durable side mesh, and weighing only 230grams, these shoes are ace. At least I’ll be able to crutch around in style.
Syme to Syme – Around the Mountain
5:30AM, I ducked my head outside Syme’s ice-pick studded door. A streak of orange on the horizon ignited the spark of sunrise as we began our epic: AROUND THE MOUNTAIN. We out-ran the sun to the western side along the Brames Falls Track, overgrown and clearly unused even though it has some amazing scenery. Precipitous cliffs fell from Bob’s Knob, one of the many distinctive rock formations jutting from Taranaki’s higher flanks. I clung firmly to lava rock as I dropped into one murderous valley, you couldn’t afford to be half asleep on a trail like this.
Pumped – Bring it on! |
Heartily climbing out of Waiaua Gorge |
We avoided the chasm of mud and micro-climbs that I knew were hidden beneath the even contours below Kahui Hut, this cut a wholesome chunk off our time up Stony River to Holly Hut. All the while, Ben was developing some serious nausea and hadn’t been able to stomach anything solid since breakfast. Not good. He almost vomited while I gratefully chowed down on fried eggs offered by some frisky hunters. Though delicious, I could appreciate he was wrenching in agony and putting up a brave front. We discussed pulling out at North Egmont, without fuel Ben’s energy levels were deteriorating fast. A hard decision to make…but we pushed on.
Empty stomach perseverance: Up the Stony River. |
Somehow, the 500m climb to Tahurangi cured him. When I first heard the words “…let’s stop for food…” I knew we’d make it. We were now running true ‘around the mountain’, for miles in the distance the sidling trail was clearly etched into the mountain-side. The crest of every spur brought with it new views and new hope of finishing. But this was it: the uncertainty of completing your goal in ultra marathons is exactly what makes them so elusive, and keeps us running back for more.
Getting into my rhythm on the climb to Tahurangi. Dieffenbach Cliffs in the backdrop. |
Stratford Plateau. Fantham’s now in Sight. |
Something special about Wilkie’s Pools. A highlight of the trip
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Knocking off the downhill through Manganui ski-field, the glorious Wilkie’s pools, and into Dawson’s Falls set us in high spirits to end the day – we were now amped on endorphins – determined to fling ourselves at the stairs – literally 1000 of them – fourty minutes later – – –
Ben – ecstatic |
Round the Mountain, no mean feat |
We were over the moon, and had clocked in at a fraction under 11 hours. Although truly impressed at the thought of Grant Guise’s recent time of 6 hours, we were about to complete a known first. Because as we lay elated on the steps at our loop’s end, the chilling sweat on our backs reminded us our journey wasn’t yet over…
Absurdly destroyed. Scoria was not designed for tired legs |
Forty-degree pitched fields of loose scree almost had the last laugh – the extended stop had sent us writhing in cramp as we summoned emergency pockets of energy to help us make it to the top. To make matters worse, cloud engulfed us for a time, not unusual on these slopes but all the more demoralising.
Home at Syme Hut, again |
Taranaki – Like no other… |
Mt Taranaki – #1
After several failed attempts to climb Mount Taranaki, at 7:23pm Tuesday 31st January 2012, I reached the summit. Perched on a windy rock at two thousand five hundred metres, I was there in the moment. At last!
Magical |
During the weekend, the mountain was taken by storm by Anna Frost, Matt Bixley, and Grant Guise. They each smashed records on the mountain, some had stood since 1976. I spent Saturday cycling around Taranaki, and was too depleted to join their record-breaking attempts. Read about their success here: Mt Taranaki – Speed Record. Alistair McAlpine has recently compiled all the records on the mountain, hence the recent interest! I was determined to make my own way up at the first open chance…
Today began windy & wet, but as I patiently stared outside my office window, mentally tearing away the layers of dark cloud, the storm began to subside… I was just about to think of another plan when, the rocky peak appeared above the clouds. All go!
I set off up the Razorback track from North Egmont at 5:50pm, following advice from 4-summits record holder Matt Bixley. Overgrown, and laden with hundreds of steps, I climbed steadily along a ‘razorback’ ridge to the Translater tower by Tahurangi Lodge. 35 minutes, I branched off to the summit climb section.
Stairs… |
A few hundred steps launched me into the nemesis of the climb – 300 vertical metres of scree. Not your average scree, with hundreds climbing this route every summer weekend, it was all but impossible to get a grip! As I climbed and clawed desperately, I started to pick a better route between well lodged rocks, but it was still a huge mission. Once at The Lizard, it was a rock climb scramble to the crater. My watch spurred me into a furious dash once I saw the ice in the crater, ticking down to my goal of 1 hour 30 minutes…
Head down until I saw the memorial plaque, what an epic view to burst through my senses! 1 hour 33 minutes to the summit, I was ecstatic. Reminding myself this was only the first, the reccie, I’m sure there’s plenty more to be shaven off.
The summit crater |
I didn’t rush the descent, it took about the same time as the trip up. Facing down, you realise how steep Taranaki is, and precarious pockets of scree on the solid, serrated rock are forever out to get you. This mountain is just as lethal in summer as it is in winter.
I arrived back at North Egmont at 9:05pm just before dark, making for a 3:15 return trip. It was a magic climb, as I drove off I occasionally caught sight of its darkened silhouette on a surprisingly calm night.
I’m now looking forward to taking 10 others with me to climb the Eastern Ridge on Saturday, and sleep at Syme Hut atop Fanthams Peak. Lets hope the weather agrees! But for now, I can finally live in Taranaki, and relax.
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Arthurs No Pass – to the Brink & Beyond
Rivers were still “burly” when we finally made our entrance to Arthur’s, so we left the Waimakariri to down-brew while we made our assault on Avalanche Peak. The climb was saturated with magnificent views of Mt Rolleston crowding the backdrop. The route from Avalanche Pk along the ridge behind me seems straightforward in summer… but hidden from sight is a 30m vertical face to be negotiated. Serious stuff.
I was plagued with regret having not brought the tent, to spend a night on a tussocky flat section below the peak would have been fabulous. Instead we spent two hours sleeping on the high plateau, dwarfed beneath Mt Rolleston.
Mountain Art – Dusk on White River |
Prime Real Estate |
After sleeping off our mountain hangovers, Ben & I set off to explore the route to the base of Murchison. While lunching on a moraine spur, we scoped out the ascent along the leading ridge to Kahutea Col, where snatching a summit would be simple. We made it to the snowline, a rock dislodged, I sprained a thumb… Sunbathing on the glacier seemed like a far better idea. And so it was. You can’t be epic all the time.
Ben soaking it up at the base of White Glacier |
Braving a dip in the Barker Tarn |
Suited up in full weather gear, we braved the return journey with the assurance that we knew the route. Misty rain accumulated, and the rivers rose noticeably, so to cross the Taipoiti we jumped in the ‘Clough Cableway’ keen for a novelty crossing. This ancient piece of machinery was built to remember a 16 year old who had died crossing the raging White river. As it turned out, the machine was more dangerous than crossing the river by a long-shot!
Three thick iron cables hung across the 30m wide river, holding a small cart to be manually winched across. It was great flying across the river, the cable whizzing past my face, rain in my face, river gushing way below. Not so great was getting my hand caught between the pulley and wire – if I wasn’t wearing gloves my hand could have been seriously injured. My screams to Ben across the river were drowned out in the rain. Luckily he was tired and released the winch, not a second too soon…
Arthur’s Pass – a great place for everything |
Mt Fyffe
The hut had an extravagant 120 degree view of the Kaikoura coast, would have been an excellent spot for the night! I doused myself in chilled water from the hut reservoir, and spent half an hour cooling off before attempting the final 600m to the summit.
Making it to 1608m was all the more satisfying given how doubtful I was to reaching this point during the initial scorching climb. I was revellous!
In the Hall of the Seal King
Seals and White-faced Heron were rampant along the coastline in the Abel Tasman NP, hissing and inhaling violently as I burst into their territory. Threatened, as I cut the line between them and their offspring, I sent the oily creatures flapping into the ocean … safety, for us both. Meanwhile, I managed to capture our mutual fear as we dodged and darted each other along the narrow strip of traversable terrain.