The necessary union between media and adventure racers creates some awkward, sometimes surreal scenes. Take the case of Cathy Sassin, media darling and one of the USA's adventure racing turbo-betties. She can talk most humans into the ground, so she's an interviewer's dream, a veritable walking soundbyte; she smiles a lot on camera, that big white Colgate grin; and she's usually vying for victory, so she's in the main fray of most races.

During the last few years at the Elf Authentic Adventure, Sassin has had near disastrous experiences with helicopter camera crews. In the Philippines in 1999, while leap-frogging leads with Team Pharmanex, two of Sassin's Team Spie teammates, Jeff Robin and Matteo Pellin, were literally lifted from the water by the force of the hovering helicopter. Says Sassin, "Their sea kayak rose 8 to 10 feet off the water, inverted, and slammed back to the water upside down. They were swamped. So we had to go ashore and spend time bailing the boat out, and we were in the lead!"

During that same helicopter pass, some support crew tents were uprooted from their stakes and tossed around like the plastic bag in American Beauty. One of the tents was torn to shreds.

At this year's Elf Race in Brazil, Sassin had another run in. Leading again, this time as Team Pharmanex Spie, Sassin and her team were just ten miles from the finish when a film chopper came in so low that the force of the propeller snapped the mast of their indigenous sailing vessel and nearly capsized them. The Brazilian boat captain (and boat owner) then refused to sail because of fear he would drown (it turned out he could not swim). Luckily for Pharmanex Spie, guru racer and engineer Steve Gurney from New Zealand was aboard; he rigged up another sail with a spare tent fly and the team managed to sail to victory.

Says Sassin, "I know that TV and the media need their shots-and I respect that. But they have to respect us too, that we are trying to win a race. It's hard enough to beat the other great teams when you have to deal with helicopters flipping your boats."

The other odd dichotomy is the fact that in seeking out drama and the agony of defeat, still shooters and camera crews are often there on the spot during a team's or individual's worst moment-when they are broken down, crying in despair, being airlifted from the course due to injury, or having a heated battle with a teammate or some member of the race organization. So, in a moment of extreme anguish or emotion, there is a wide lens camera stuck inches from your face, and a big fuzzy microphone looming over you like a giant used Q-Tip.

Again, some racers take this all in stride. Says Rebecca Rusch, no stranger to the camera: "I don't mind it much to tell you the truth. We need them out there for our sponsors and to allow us to get exposure and money to race. The best part about adventure racing media is that most of them are out there in the middle of nowhere sleeping on the ground and working in rough conditions in the outdoors. That kind of passion is something I respect and those kinds of people are really fun to see out on the course. They understand what you are doing as racers because they are out there too."

But then there are the "Transition Area lurkers," the media who don't venture far out on course, who hang at the check points and TA's because they know the teams will be coming through. Eco-Challenge Patagonia was probably the worst recent case of this phenomenon, where a massive throng of media hovered at major TA's awaiting the lead teams. The numbers were so unwieldy that these areas began to look more like a Laker's game than a wilderness race. To make matters worse, print media were getting in the Discovery Channel film crews shots, ten journalists at a time sticking tape recorders in John Howard's face, and ultimately, the Discovery Channel and Race organization barricaded the TA's so that only the film crews had access. The media were handcuffed, and rightfully so. They were slowing down the lead teams and turning the adventure race into a media circus.

Says Rusch, who with her Team Rubicon was contesting the lead most of the way: "There have been the occasional reporters that don't respect that we're racing or don't know the appropriate way to approach us in a TA. Sometimes they get angry if we don't spend enough time elaborating on how we feel. The best reporters are the ones that will walk with us and talk while we're moving and understand it's not like a normal interview where they'll have our undivided attention. Again, it's the people who have been at adventure races or on expeditions, so they know how to adapt to the race and their surroundings."

As it turns out, the midpack and trailing teams are often the easiest to deal with on the course, and make for the best interviews, because they tend to be in less of a hurry. They are simply trying to finish. As the trailing teams get strewn across the vast canvas of the course, they will take the time to really tell reporters what it's been like out there, relaying humorous anecdotes about the last section, and providing great detail and color. And frequently, they seem to relish the chance to talk to someone other than a teammate.

With the growth that adventure racing is experiencing, media-racer encounters are guaranteed to increase rather than diminish. Insensitive journalists will still drive along, heads and cameras out the window of 4x4's, caking dehydrated mountain bikers with dust. And irate racers will still flip them off. It's up to everyone, the racers, the media themselves, and especially the media directors of the races to ensure a seamless and cooperative relationship. The adventure is supposed to be between the racers and the terrain, after all.

Oh, and it might be worth having a word or two with some of those French helicopter pilots.

— Buddy Levy, MountainZone.com Correspondent