Yak-Attack 2008
First of all – thank you! Through your generosity, INF's Greenpastures Hospital in Pokhara now has an extra £1,200 that will make a big difference to people suffering from leprosy, spinal cord injury and other forms of disability in Western Nepal. Nepal is one of the few countries where leprosy has still not been 'eliminated' and people come to Greenpastures from all over the western half of Nepal to get treatment and for rehabilitation from the disability that leprosy so often causes.
In Nepal, many people are injured in accidents, especially falling out of trees while cutting fodder for animals, and also from burns. Greenpastures is one of the few places in Nepal where reconstructive surgery and rehabilitation treatment are available.
I have been back home in Pokhara for just a week, but already it seems like months ago that Ed Lewis and I set off to Besi Sahar to meet the other competitors at the start of Yak-attack 2008. Ed had been very tired and quite unwell when he first arrived in Nepal and was not looking forward to the start. Apart from the two of us, there were only two other westerners involved: Matt, a fitness trainer and one of the main sponsors of the event, and Phil, founder of Extreme World Challenges and one of the organisers. The other 20 participants were Nepali, most of them Sherpas from the Everest region. They were a great bunch – very relaxed, friendly and encouraging.
After a fanfare from a local band, we set off in bright sunshine along the Marshyangdi river valley that we would follow for the next four days. On jeep tracks initially, the bikes scorched into an early lead while us runners did our best to limit our losses. We soon started to criss-cross the river on narrow suspension bridges, and as the track narrowed and turned uphill, we started to overtake some of the bikers. After a steep final climb one other runner, Phudorje, and I popped out into Bahundada and to our surprise, discovered we were the first to arrive.
This became the pattern for the next week. Get up early and pack bags; send the porters off at 7.00; grab some breakfast; race start at 9.00; run hard for two or three hours; spend the rest of the day eating, drinking and trying to recover. We would eat together most evenings, swapping stories and getting the results of the stage.
Day two was supposed to be just 7km, and I set off hard thinking it would be all over in half an hour. After 5km, the path turned uphill, and assuming that the finish was almost in sight, I emptied my water bottle and upped the pace. It turned out that a '1' had been missed off the distance, and that 17km was one of the hardest two hours I have run – constantly up and down over very rough ground. The only consolation was that the cyclists would have had to carry their bikes almost the whole way, and they started to turn up looking rather the worse for wear over an hour after the runners had arrived.
The porters arrived a further three hours later and brought bad news. Ed had twisted his knee and was pulling out. He had stopped in a village an hour back down the trail and I walked back to meet him and see if he could be persuaded to carry on. The knee had already started to stiffen up so it looked like he had made the right decision to stop, and I walked back up the hill feeling very lonely.
Day three was when it started to feel like we were among the mountains, swapping rice paddies and fields for prayer flags, cliffs and forests. For a while we left the river and climbed high up the side of the valley. I found that I could keep with the Sherpas while the going was gentle, but as the altitude got higher, they left me standing as soon as the trail went up. I miss-judged the amount of water I should carry on this stage and although I caught Phudorje with about 5km to go, I knew I was running out of energy. Those last few km seemed to go for ever and in the end I had to stop and get some water, eventually finishing around 1 minute after the winner and second overall. We were building up a good lead over the bikers though and were confident we could hold them off for another few days at least.
Phil the organiser was doing a great job – usually setting off before the racers to catch photos of them on route. He was armed with an amazing array of technology and as soon as the bags arrived, 
he would unpack his laptop, plug in camera and video camera to download pics of the day, and then set up a satellite link to beam reports back to civilisation.
At 30km, day four to Manang was the longest so far, and as we got over 3000m, the altitude combined with my tired legs meant that every climb reduced me to a stumbling march, and even running on the flat was hard work. The scenery was fantastic, with huge cliffs towering over the valley to start with, before it widened out to reveal amazing snow capped peaks behind. In last years event they had been running through snow at this point, but the trail were clean and dry for us. This was the first day that the cyclists were able really ride their bikes, and they raced off into the distance. I wasn't able to keep up with the other runners either and spent most of the stage alone, fighting my way past the many donkey trains and trying to force my legs to go quicker, wishing I had more time to enjoy the scenery.
I was using a Garmin GPS and heart rate monitor throughout the event. It is a great tool for training, but there were times during stages when, after slogging up hill for what seemed like hours it told me that I had traveled only a handful of metres, I was very tempted to throw it over the nearest cliff!
Manang at 3,500m was a very welcome site. I had lost a lot of time to the bikers, but was pleased to be only 15mins down on the first runner, and still second overall. Manang is a town with a split personality: the old half is a maze of narrow cobbled streets that probably hasn't changed in two hundred years, while on the lower side of town, hotels have been built and there are bakeries and internet cafes to cater for the 10,000 trekkers who pass through here each year. We stayed two nights in Manang to try and acclimatise to the altitude. It is in the rain shadow of the mountains and is very dry and barren – a complete contrast to the green meadows and forests of yesterday. It was a good opportunity to explore a little bit, and I would love to spend more time there.
On Thursday morning we had to move again. As the race started, I tried to take a 'short-cut' through the twisting streets of the old town, but took a wrong turn and had to scramble down a couple of 10 foot terraces, rejoining the main path in last place. It didn't get much better, as although the path was not steep, I just could not get my legs working and it felt like I was getting no-where. After a steep initial climb, the 
smooth path snaked gradually up the side of the valley – a beautiful trail that would normally be great for running or biking, but as we climbed above 4000m, the altitude was starting to bite and running was only possible on the short downhill sections. The final 2km followed a narrow path balanced precariously on a steep scree slope. Keeping your balance and moving forward was hard enough without trying to scramble past trekkers and porters, most of whom were very supportive and gave a cheer as we inched past gasping for breath.
The Thorong phedi lodge at the foot of the pass was a very welcome sight, and despite the altitude, we sat outside in the warm sun drinking tea and enjoying the scenery. As evening approached however, clouds rolled in and it started to snow! By 9.00, six inches of fresh snow had fallen, and the path leading up to the pass had disappeared. I had a headache from the altitude, and having set my alarm for 3.30, was not in the best of moods when I went to bed.
I woke feeling much better, and although it was still snowing lightly, felt positive about the route ahead: probably the toughest day of the race with a 1000m climb followed by a 2800m descent down to the comforts of Jomsom. As the start time approached, I was just finishing my breakfast when I heard a whistle blowing outside, and they were off! I grabbed my bag and set off into the darkness, following the chain of headtorches up the hill. To start with following the footprints was straightforward, and although I was gasping for breath, my legs felt good. As I slowly worked my way past the groups in front, ducking under bikes and around backpacks, the trail got less and less clear, and an hour after starting (about half way up the climb), I caught up with the leaders who were breaking the trail. By now the sun should have risen, but a slightly lighter shade of grey was the only evidence that new day had dawned. Visibility was around 50m, but in the fresh snow it was difficult just to see whether the ground under your feet was sloping up or down. There were occasional marker poles showing where the path should have been, but they were often out of sight and we stumbled along,taking turns to lead the way and sometimes having to re-trace our steps. I was just wearing trainers which were soaked through and very cold by this stage. Worried about frostbike, I was constantly wriggling my toes to keep the blood flowing.
Near the top there were several cruel false summits and when we finally reached the pass it was hard to believe that we had made it – 2 hours 45 minutes to travel just 3km!! We had worked well together and it was a great feeling, but after a brief photo stop we saw a cyclist, marching along with bike on shoulder, emerging out of the gloom and realised it would be hard to stay ahead of the bikes today - the race was on again.
The path down the other side was much clearer – still covered in snow, but visibility was improving and the route was easy to follow. The four of us stuck together and just an hour and a half later we emerged beneath the snow line to reach Muktinath at around 3,200m. There are rough roads here and after a week away from internal combustion engines, it was quite a shock to see, hear and smell motorbikes and tractors on the trail. We stopped briefly for biscuits and a cup of tea (not quite as civilised as it sounds) and took off our cold weather gear. Now that the route was clear it was every man for himself, and Phudorje raced into the distance, quickly descending to the valley floor to meet the Kali Gandaki river that we would follow south to the finish in two days time. The final 5km were into a headwind along the flat river bed, and my legs were starting to complain. To make matters worse, the first two bikers came effortlessly flying past on the smooth roads, and I started to question the wisdom of running this event rather than riding it!
Jomson was a very welcome sight and seemed amazingly civilised (my hotel room even had a TV!!) and the afternoon was spent drinking proper coffee and eating apple cake – not the best recovery foods, but definitely what I wanted!
With two stages totalling 70km to go, the race situation was finely balanced. Phudorje was first, and I was about an hour behind him in second. A bit further back was Kaji, the first cyclist, with Pasang (also on a bike) not far behind in fourth. The cyclists were going to fly for the next two days, and it would be tough for Phudorje to keep his lead, while the best I could hope for was to hold off Pasang for third. We were well ahead of last years schedule, and it looked like the bonus for the first person to finish in under 24 hours would be taken.
At over 40km, the stage from Jomsom was the longest of the race and although it descended over 1,500m, there were enough little climbs to remind your legs of what you had been doing for the last week. At the start it was dispiriting to see the cyclists blast off into the distance, but I settled down into a comfortable pace and was soon running alongside Dipak and Sonam, and we jogged together for the next hour or so – I was a bit quicker than them on the flat, but they could easily out-pace me on the climbs. We were able to follow donkey tracks along the wide river bed for much of the way, avoiding some of the twists and turns of the road above us. This is reported to be the deepest valley in the world, and there were stunning views of 8,000m peaks on each side.
Much of this area is being developed and tracks for vehicles are rapidly being blasted up into the valleys. I was glad to have been able to visit this area now, as in a couple of years, you will probably be able to drive most of the way around the circuit. The sections under construction are still open to foot traffic and as I scrambled through the rubble and machinery, workers above were dislodging boulders while those below were hammering dynamite into cracks in the rock – Health and Safety is not a well understood concept here, and gave me fresh energy to get off the building site as quickly as possible!
Elle, Evie and a friend had come up to meet me. I sometimes get quite emotional during long races, and when I caught site of them across the valley, I burst into tears! It was great to see them, but poor Evie was a bit concerned to see me dirty, sweaty and bearded!
By this stage I was on my own. I had walked this route last year and knew the finish wasn’t far, so swallowed the last of my drink and upped the pace. About 2km from the finish I saw Phudorje ahead, but despite sprinting through the narrow cobbled streets of Tatopani, I couldn’t quite catch him. Back to an altitude that he was was used to and able to actually ride his bike, Matt to a stage win. Phudorje was still in the lead but only by 15 mins, while I had dropped to third, with a 28 minute cushion on the fourth placed rider. After a wash and some food I walked back up the trail to meet Elle, and we had a very relaxing afternoon in the hot springs that Tatopani is named after.
The ‘short’ final day was still a half marathon. A rocky downhill start meant that the runners could stay in touch for a couple of minutes at least, before the cyclists took off again. I was also feeling much more comfortable at these lower altitudes, and ran with Phudorje for most of the stage before edging him out at the end. By now the cyclists had been finished for some time and were relaxing in the sun when I came sprinting into the finish, where I was told I had missed out on third place by 2 minutes!!
It was a good feeling as we sat and chatted in the sun waiting for porters to bring our bags down, the snow of two days ago seeming like a different world. After packing up the bikes, it was a 4 ½ hour bus journey back to Pokhara, during which my legs started to seize up and by the time we got home, I knew I had been in a race!
That evening there was a presentation ceremony at a local hotel and I arrived just as the speeches were starting. In true Nepali style, the speeches went on for ages, and it wasn’t until the results were actually announced, that I realised that there had been a mistake in the timings, and I was promoted to 3rd! Over the last week I have been absolutely knackered and spent most of the time eating or sleeping. After a good break (and lots of chocolate) over Easter I am starting to get my energy back and thinking of going out for a run. My kit held up brilliantly over the 200+km, and the only damage physical damage I suffered was the loss of a couple of toenails.
All in all, a great event and an amazing experience. Thanks again for your support!
All is well here in Pokhara, and we are feeling refreshed after a long Easter break. The weekend included around eight hours over three services in church, a lunch and a swim at a local hotel to celebrate a friends birthday, and a trek up Sarangkot hill to see the sunrise over the mountains.
