Thursday, April 09, 2009
Marathon des Sables 2009- Part The First!
"You are lucky", the bus driver informed us, "It hasn't rained here for twelve years!"
We certainly didn't feel lucky as we peered through the rain streaked bus windows at the desolate scene before us- darkly threatening sky, and rain driven by the winds into horizontal sheets, turning the earth to thick, sticky mud.
It all felt strangely surreal- this was supposed to be the Marathon des Sables for goodness sake- famous for intense heat and dry sand! All of our equipment had been tested and carefully selected with this in mind- we were completely unprepared for rain and mud!
I had arrived at the Travel Lodge in Gatwick on Wednesday night, and met up with the others who were to form our two tents; we had a nervous meal, as it began to dawn on us all truly what we had signed up for. No backing out now!! We arrived at Gatwick the next morning, and immediately spotted our check in desk, due to the large numbers of people sporting red Raidlight rucksacks. As we queued to check in, little did we realise that this was the precedent to a whole week of queueing...
After an uneventful flight with a surprisingly tasty vegetarian meal, we touched down at the tiny airport in Ouazazate. Given that we were the only plane load to arrive, we thought that passport control would be a relatively straightforward procedure. Wrong... it took over one and a half hours- due to the passport officials' tendency to wander off every so often and chat amongst themselves. In fact, me and Rach were the last to be let into Morocco.
Arriving In Ouazazate
After another queue for room allocation when we arrived at the hotel, we had quite a long walk to our room- the rooms are set in the grounds at the back of the hotel, in a kind of little village. I resolved that next time I will bring a case on wheels! The rooms were acrually quite nice, in fact the hotel was pretty impressive, with displays of statues and fixtures which had been used in films which had been made in the area.
The Berbere Palace
Dinner was very nice- a selection of pasta, couscous and rice dishes, plus a variety of salads which I avoided to try to dodge potential tummy issues. They really excelled themselves on the deserts- which included pancakes freshly made and placed onto your plate whilst you watched! One guy, Shiz, remarked that it was going to rain the next day, and everyone replied- "It doesn't rain in the desert!" Boy was that going to come back to haunt us...
We had been advised that we would be setting off for the desert at 9am the following morning, but received a phone call at 6:15am from Sarah at BOM to advise that this had now been changed to 8am! So we rushed round, ate a hasty breakfast and boarded the coaches. We were still there at 9am and a few of us started to get off for a toilet stop; it is pretty unfortunate that they encourage you to drink plenty of water and then keep you hanging around for hours! As we waited, the fabled roadbooks were distributed- everyone went silent as we skipped through the pages; it was apparent that dune day was to be day two and the long stage was to be 50 miles.
Eventually we were on our way, heading into the mountains and a terrific storm. The rain was torrential, and I think we were all expecting it to ease as we drove further south. We stopped for a few wet and muddy toilet breaks- blokes to the right and ladies in bushes or behind whatever cover we could find to the left. This was our first taste in performing toilet habits in front of large numbers of people, and one girl was heard to say "I can't go! I've got stage fright!"
We were given a packed lunch and some of the traditional flat bread, and noticed that the rain wasn't easing off at all, even though we had been driving for several hours. Finally we reached the end of our road, were the driver made his pronouncement. The bivouac was around 20 minutes away but to get there we would need to be taken on army trucks. We had another wait, as the trucks could only take so many at a time, but finally it was our turn. It was awful lugging the cases through mud and into the lashing rain, and the army trucks were quite high, which made them very difficult for short folks like me to get into, but eventually we were all in and holding on as the truck shot through wet sand, mud and sheets of water. We were jolted back and forth and at one point were thrown in the air to come crashing back down! My back hasn't been the same since...
A wet And Wild Ride!!
It was strange clambering down from the truck and seeing the bivouac for the first time. It resembled all the pictures I had seen; the black tents for the competitors in a horseshoe shape and the white tents for the organisers behind, and yet it was a quagmire with muddy rivulets running through the camp. We were told to pick any tent in light of the conditions, and some members of our group had already chosen two side by side.
Flooded Bivouac
However, the rugs covering the floor of the tents were soaked through, and our tent was completely flooded in one corner. Waterproof covers had been placed over the tents, but these proved to be totally inadequate- we tried to make modifications but were fighting a losing battle. The helicoptor was flying back and forth overhead, no doubt surveying the dismall scene, and the whole thing resembled a refugee camp.
Our Tent... Cosy!!
Various organisers were walking to and fro, identified by their beige jerkins, and told us to move to the organisers and press tents as these may offer better shelter. They were slightly better, having four sides, but were still pretty wet. The trucks had stopped bringing people to the bivouac at this point, and some of the french coaches had been stuck for hours due to flash floods making the roads impassable. Finally, we were told that we would be served dinner and then they were evacuating the camp- we were all to be taken to a hotel as conditions were deteriorating fast. I couldn't believe it- so much for thinking no more rain and mud after training through the winter!
Just Like Glastonbury...
Dinner was actually very good, including hot soup and red wine which was very welcome as it was decidedly chilly. We were wondering whether it was actually possible to catch hypothermia in the desert! The dining tent was very muddy, so we ate off the bonnet of a nearby Land Rover. We were then told that an army truck was coming to transport us out, so we lugged our bags to the front tents and waited... and waited. At one point, Patrick Bauer, the organiser, walked by, raised his arms skywards and said "Inshalla".
Smiles Through The Rain And Mud
Eventually the trucks did arrive, although it was dark by this stage, and we had another wild and bumpy ride to the nearby village of Erfoud, where we were checked into a hotel- The Hotel Salem. I must say, they coped admirally with the prospect of accommodating several hundred wet, muddy and demoralised people. A few folks did actually stay at the bivouac overnight, I'm not quite sure if they were overlooked or the trucks were unable to reach them.
It still seemed strangely surreal- we were finally warm and dry, but had no idea what was going to happen now and whether we would still get to race...
We certainly didn't feel lucky as we peered through the rain streaked bus windows at the desolate scene before us- darkly threatening sky, and rain driven by the winds into horizontal sheets, turning the earth to thick, sticky mud.
It all felt strangely surreal- this was supposed to be the Marathon des Sables for goodness sake- famous for intense heat and dry sand! All of our equipment had been tested and carefully selected with this in mind- we were completely unprepared for rain and mud!
I had arrived at the Travel Lodge in Gatwick on Wednesday night, and met up with the others who were to form our two tents; we had a nervous meal, as it began to dawn on us all truly what we had signed up for. No backing out now!! We arrived at Gatwick the next morning, and immediately spotted our check in desk, due to the large numbers of people sporting red Raidlight rucksacks. As we queued to check in, little did we realise that this was the precedent to a whole week of queueing...
After an uneventful flight with a surprisingly tasty vegetarian meal, we touched down at the tiny airport in Ouazazate. Given that we were the only plane load to arrive, we thought that passport control would be a relatively straightforward procedure. Wrong... it took over one and a half hours- due to the passport officials' tendency to wander off every so often and chat amongst themselves. In fact, me and Rach were the last to be let into Morocco.
Arriving In Ouazazate
After another queue for room allocation when we arrived at the hotel, we had quite a long walk to our room- the rooms are set in the grounds at the back of the hotel, in a kind of little village. I resolved that next time I will bring a case on wheels! The rooms were acrually quite nice, in fact the hotel was pretty impressive, with displays of statues and fixtures which had been used in films which had been made in the area.
The Berbere Palace
Dinner was very nice- a selection of pasta, couscous and rice dishes, plus a variety of salads which I avoided to try to dodge potential tummy issues. They really excelled themselves on the deserts- which included pancakes freshly made and placed onto your plate whilst you watched! One guy, Shiz, remarked that it was going to rain the next day, and everyone replied- "It doesn't rain in the desert!" Boy was that going to come back to haunt us...
We had been advised that we would be setting off for the desert at 9am the following morning, but received a phone call at 6:15am from Sarah at BOM to advise that this had now been changed to 8am! So we rushed round, ate a hasty breakfast and boarded the coaches. We were still there at 9am and a few of us started to get off for a toilet stop; it is pretty unfortunate that they encourage you to drink plenty of water and then keep you hanging around for hours! As we waited, the fabled roadbooks were distributed- everyone went silent as we skipped through the pages; it was apparent that dune day was to be day two and the long stage was to be 50 miles.
Eventually we were on our way, heading into the mountains and a terrific storm. The rain was torrential, and I think we were all expecting it to ease as we drove further south. We stopped for a few wet and muddy toilet breaks- blokes to the right and ladies in bushes or behind whatever cover we could find to the left. This was our first taste in performing toilet habits in front of large numbers of people, and one girl was heard to say "I can't go! I've got stage fright!"
We were given a packed lunch and some of the traditional flat bread, and noticed that the rain wasn't easing off at all, even though we had been driving for several hours. Finally we reached the end of our road, were the driver made his pronouncement. The bivouac was around 20 minutes away but to get there we would need to be taken on army trucks. We had another wait, as the trucks could only take so many at a time, but finally it was our turn. It was awful lugging the cases through mud and into the lashing rain, and the army trucks were quite high, which made them very difficult for short folks like me to get into, but eventually we were all in and holding on as the truck shot through wet sand, mud and sheets of water. We were jolted back and forth and at one point were thrown in the air to come crashing back down! My back hasn't been the same since...
A wet And Wild Ride!!
It was strange clambering down from the truck and seeing the bivouac for the first time. It resembled all the pictures I had seen; the black tents for the competitors in a horseshoe shape and the white tents for the organisers behind, and yet it was a quagmire with muddy rivulets running through the camp. We were told to pick any tent in light of the conditions, and some members of our group had already chosen two side by side.
Flooded Bivouac
However, the rugs covering the floor of the tents were soaked through, and our tent was completely flooded in one corner. Waterproof covers had been placed over the tents, but these proved to be totally inadequate- we tried to make modifications but were fighting a losing battle. The helicoptor was flying back and forth overhead, no doubt surveying the dismall scene, and the whole thing resembled a refugee camp.
Our Tent... Cosy!!
Various organisers were walking to and fro, identified by their beige jerkins, and told us to move to the organisers and press tents as these may offer better shelter. They were slightly better, having four sides, but were still pretty wet. The trucks had stopped bringing people to the bivouac at this point, and some of the french coaches had been stuck for hours due to flash floods making the roads impassable. Finally, we were told that we would be served dinner and then they were evacuating the camp- we were all to be taken to a hotel as conditions were deteriorating fast. I couldn't believe it- so much for thinking no more rain and mud after training through the winter!
Just Like Glastonbury...
Dinner was actually very good, including hot soup and red wine which was very welcome as it was decidedly chilly. We were wondering whether it was actually possible to catch hypothermia in the desert! The dining tent was very muddy, so we ate off the bonnet of a nearby Land Rover. We were then told that an army truck was coming to transport us out, so we lugged our bags to the front tents and waited... and waited. At one point, Patrick Bauer, the organiser, walked by, raised his arms skywards and said "Inshalla".
Smiles Through The Rain And Mud
Eventually the trucks did arrive, although it was dark by this stage, and we had another wild and bumpy ride to the nearby village of Erfoud, where we were checked into a hotel- The Hotel Salem. I must say, they coped admirally with the prospect of accommodating several hundred wet, muddy and demoralised people. A few folks did actually stay at the bivouac overnight, I'm not quite sure if they were overlooked or the trucks were unable to reach them.
It still seemed strangely surreal- we were finally warm and dry, but had no idea what was going to happen now and whether we would still get to race...
Labels: Erfoud, floods, Marathon des Sables
