I definitely bit off more than I could chew, and although I had signed up to volunteer at the Wilderness Traverse adventure race, the RD suggested that maybe it's best if I just hang around and take some photos or whatever, instead of being posted to a real job - wise words. This is definitely more of a story of my own misadventures that night rather than much to do with the race itself!
I finally rolled into town and a nearly-empty race HQ around 7pm, about 11hrs into the overnight race, to find race co-director BC fiercely manning the race computer, tracking teams and updating standings. Race blogger PD was also typing away, with an incredible dedication and wit. Both were looking a bit frazzled after a very, very long shift since the race briefings the night before, with another whole night and day ahead of them.
I had intended to crash at a friend's motel room while he was volunteering somewhere out there, but after a snafu with the room keys and an unpleasant confrontation with the motel owner (so rude!!) I decided to just drive out to CM's checkpoint/TA and hang out. I was of course still caked in mud and looking pretty feral after Tough Mudder, so I took a little "shower" in the bathroom sink first.
TA2 was located in Severn Falls, technically not far away from Bala as the crow flies, but with miles of wilderness between them in the Wahta Mohawk Territory, the drive around to the 400 and back in was about 50km. After I left Bala, I saw my gas light come on. I thought - I'm entering a reservation - there'll be plenty of cheap gas! Alas, I drove through the entire Wahta Territory with nothing on offer but one general store and every roadside home selling all the smokes I could smoke in a lifetime. I knew the 400 was up next, and surely there would be gas there! Actually, this has to be the loneliest stretch of the highway, with nothing but trees stuck to the Canadian Shield, and not even other drivers on a Saturday night. I turned back off towards Severn, and saw a sign for a place called Big Chute. Salvation, right? Not so! Big Chute is nothing but a small marina with a big name. I knew I'd be pushing it getting to Severn Falls, but I figured that at least sounded like a real town. I crawled in at twilight, drove past the TA and towards a cluster of buildings. There was a marina, a bustling restaurant, a big general store, and... no gas station.At this point I was really kicking myself, having put myself and a friend in this situation when we ran out of gas in the middle of the Laurentians on the way to our Tremblant Spartan weekend. I can't seem to remember the fact that once you go within a certain short distance north of major cities, you really need to plan ahead for things like late-night gas purchases. I did see some pumps for the boats at the marina, but the marina itself was closed, so once again, I would have to wait till morning to fill up. My triathlon (remember the triathlon?) was to start at 8:30am.
Nothing to do but to hang out at the TA and enjoy the show. I had great timing, because just after I drove in, my friend CL and his team trekked their way in, which was also great for CM, who was technically part of the team but not racing due to injury. The boys were smiling and excited, which was a great to see. The winning team had gone through here about 4hrs before, but the big pack would begin to stream through just now at dusk. Since this was a trek-to-bike transition, the lawn was covered in clusters of numbered mountain bikes and strewn with big team bins with long-awaited stashes of dry clothes and tasty food. I was told the trek was particularly tough this year, and some teams were in danger of missing the cut-off at this TA, while many others would likely not make the subsequent cut-off and be short-coursed.
It was exciting to watch the teams go through the TA steps: pull on fresh clothes, shovel in as much food as possible ("I knew I had this other Snickers bar in here!" nom nom nom...), and get their bikes in order before calmly riding away into the night. In between, TA bosses CM and EV were marking down the time-in and time-out as well as noting any issues the teams were having and trying to report this info back to BC at headquarters via largely ineffectual satellite and cell phones! They eventually had to accept the withdrawal of one team due to very beat-up feet. I hate to benefit from another's misfortune, but this team would inadvertently save my butt that night.
After the big pack had gone through, I finally revealed to CM that I was stuck without gas, but not to worry - I had plenty of food, warm clothes, and even a tent (why?) so I would have no problem camping out while he and EV moved camp to another CP further along the course.
Shortly before 11pm, we got a text from WL, a tireless hero who had been charged with driving all over the 150km+ long course and delivering supplies or rescuing teams. He was to come and pick up the one team that withdrew here, but he had realized that he would need to catch the last gas station still open in all of Muskoka - all the way down in Coldwater! I grabbed the phone and begged him to also buy a small canister of gas, reasonably sure that gas stations in the middle of nowhere readily stock empty canisters. Half an hour later, I had 10L of gas and a way out! I was unbelievably grateful. But then again, I somehow always believe things will work out if you let them. Don't panic, and everything will be fine.
I packed out some TA trash, said goodbye to the team and headed back through the beautiful nighttime Shield country to Bala. As my first and last contribution to the race, I donated a six-pack of beer to the frenzied HQ staff and crawled into my sleeping bag behind the theatre curtain on the stage of the community centre - where a few volunteers were also crashing at this point. I woke up briefly around 3:30am to the sweet sound of the first team finishing the race overall - Pentathlon des Neiges from QC, the first team to win the WT twice in a row. They would go on to place 13th out of 64 teams at the Adventure Racing World Championship in September.
By the time I got up before 7am, I was surrounded by many other bodies, some volunteers cocooned in comfy sleeping bags, some obvious muddy racers crashed out on the bare floor as they stood. With an overall cut-off at noon, the race was far from done, but the place was definitely bustling now. Because of their short course, CL's team once again rolled in just as I was walking out, all smiles still after just under 24 straight hours of racing. I tried to stay out of the way as I prepped for the triathlon about 500m down the road. But I did bump into WL, who had spent the entire night on the road; he looked me up and down with a craaaazy look in his eye - "Did I bring you gas last night?" Oh you certainly did, thank you!!! "I don't really remember; that was sooo long ago."
I did get to my race alright, but this was quite a lesson in not taking on more that you can handle all at once. Next time I volunteer to volunteer - I will actually give the event my full attention.
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