Larger Than Life – Volunteer's Eye On Legends Trails
Opublikowane w pon., 14/03/2016 - 09:21
There's already daylight and the falling snow immediately melts. Arend took on an impossible task of improving my almost nonexistent Dutch. I digest what he says in my brain for a couple seconds, try to answer him and have to switch to English mid-sentence for lack of vocabulary. Still better than nothing. Cheers for your patience, mate!
The second stage is easier with much less elevation gain. We tick off the racers approaching in little groups. Their spirits are high, having covered just over 80 km after all. Before noon another LST (Chloe and two Dutch blokes) replaces us and we can go to CP2 at Comblain-Fairon for some rest.
At the checkpoint in a riverside hostel I manage a 3 hour kip, while the tireless Arend picks three retiring racers from the course. Before taking a shower I get a green Dutch Army towel from him as I left mine at HQ. Use it with pride! – he says. At night we are deployed to Aywaille for the intermediate CP2.1. High up the trail above the town Dieter awaits us by a small campfire with a fourpack of La Chouffe beer. Having ticked several runners off and unsuccessfully attempted to rekindle the fire with damp wood we run back down to Aywaille. We buy some takeaway pizza, sharing it later with four racers. Among them is the first girl, Paula Ijzerman from the Netherlands. After 130 km and in the middle of the second night a pizza is a nice surprise for them.
More and more yompers cross the bridge over the river l'Ourthe. One of the Belgians is in two minds whether to quit here or make it to CP3, finally deciding to retire right now. He looks hypothermic so I give him my spare old Goretex jacket. One Norwegian female runner seems to be in Aywaille for some time judging by the position of her tracker but we can't find her anywhere. Later it turns out she is in the car of another LST taking her to CP3. Remske and Ernst Jan Vermeulen, the couple of Dutch veteran ultrarunners, doesn't waste time and bravely pushes on. They will finally cover 195 km, retiring between CP 3 and 4. Having ticked off all those remaining in the game, we leave Aywaille and after 2pm arrive at CP3 at La Reid (150 km).
The medical team takes care of sore legs and trench feet of the living dead, who are at the same time intaking great amounts of hot soup provided by the kitchen crew. Some runners kip down in the tent outside. The lonely Norwegian yomper Leif Abrahamsen gets full 3 hours of sleep in his bivvy bag protecting him from snow. Others snooze in the dining room with their heads on the table. Some decide to quit here, others put off the decision till the morning when they wake up. It's here that I manage to write my first report and send some pics for the Running Festival website before crashing out on the floor in one of the rooms upstairs. Now there are still 29 competitors remaining in the game, with 6 Belgians in the lead. This number will be largely depleted till the morning. Andre Lindekens, one of the leading pack, will drop out because of hypothermia.
Five-hour kip... priceless. Before noon I end up at the Houffalize HQ. Arend is already there. Time to bid farewell, he's going home. I learn that Wiktor, together with some other retired runners, has joined the volunteer crew and is out in the field. Brave guys. Stu deploys me to mark a section somewhere around 230 km where a ski slope has to be bypassed and the course is different than originally planned. Having reached the place I run down the slope filled with skiers and snowboarders and fix some signs along the new course. I try my best to make them clearly visible even for zombies in a stormy night.
Some rolling Belgian drunkard must have built this rolling Belgian road going through this winter wonderland. Snow keeps falling all the time. I put the signs all the way to the planned intermediate tent checkpoint, run back to the car and make a move to my next assignment – to take down the signs from the stretch we marked Friday afternoon. Another nice trip in difficult terrain, covered with more snow this time. Together with the night shift to come, all this adds to almost 20 km yomping this day.
– Still feeling fit? – I hear Stu's voice in my phone as I approach my car in the falling darkness. Yeah, I reckon, what's up? – We may need some help in the tent, where you've just put signs. – I'll do it no prob, just get me some warm grub please, I'm starving! A relaxing evening with a few beers has to be put off a couple hours. Somehow I still enjoy every minute of this game...
