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Team Necky Kayaks and support crewPhoto courtesy of Garrett Madison

The morning of race day was a calm surprise to the torrents of rain that fell the days before, the salt water was glass. As the racers lined up in waves behind the start gate, we listened as an old native shaman from a local tribe sang a chant in the traditional tongue. As he chanted the clouds began to part and let the sun shine through on all of us. The chills ran through my body as his unfamiliar words somehow struck some deep primordial chords within, and I breathed in the beauty of all the raw unspoiled nature around us. I could not have imagined a more perfect beginning to the race, every racer sensed the journey they were about to embark upon with their team, and the feeling was in all of us.

When the clock finally counted to zero the first wave hit the beach and shot off in their kayaks. The successive waves of racers were staggered two minutes apart, and soon we were running toward the shore. After the cluttered weeks of endless organizing and late night preparation we finally were living our vision of the Primal Quest.

We paddled with a pod of six kayaks while some would drop off from the group and others would catch up to us. Paddling behind another boat smoothes the water for yours, so we followed closely, unless Brent suggested we take a slightly different route. Several times we paddled nearer the shore and gained on other boats because the current was in our favor. We hit several checkpoints on Orcas Island and on other islands around the area. Leaving Sucia we attached a tow cord between our boats so that the boat with two men could slightly pull the boat with Cathy. The last four hours of paddling we held an eastward course from Orcas to the mainland. Upon reaching the shore at Larrabee state park we were instructed by race officials to take all equipment from our boats and walk to the first transition area 20 minutes away. We struggled to carry our loads because the cold air on our legs made our muscles cramp, not to mention sitting for over 11 hours and then immediately hiking with a pack is a shock to the body.

Our support crew met us with hot food and clean cloths. Several family members and friends had arrived unexpected and assisted Michael’s dad with orchestrating the camp for us, complete with a large heated tent to change in and eat a wide selection of food. After a wink of resting we were off again, this time into the forest as darkness fell, our packs loaded with food for the next 16 hours.

Navigating in the thick forest of western Washington can be extremely challenging in the dark, especially with rolling hills. The locals of this area refer to the land we navigated through as "the land of the lost." Most teams found out that night how tricky the forest is. Luckily for us the trail systems made some sense, and we chose a path wisely, which led us through the checkpoints in good time. Upon exiting the "land of the lost" we found checkpoint 8, a dirt parking lot with our scooters. From here we would scooter along on our "kickbikes" through the remaining hours of the night until nearing the town of Sedro Wooley. Kicking one foot on the pavement and keeping one on the small platform between the wheels, we traveled along paved roads, hardly ever seeing a car. I became a little sleepy around 4 am but once I got into my rhythm I awakened as we pulled into TA #2.

As we arrived the sun was beginning to shine again and Team Nike ACG was on their way out, a friendly reminder of how close we were to the best team in the world. The race official told us the course had been altered to avoid the Mt. Baker climb because it was too dangerous, shortening the distance. We were disappointed, as we knew we were strongest in the mountains, especially on the glaciated terrain. We met our friend Tap, whom three of us work with on mountaineering trips, and we hurried up to the camp. Our support crew had found an abandoned dairy barn where the truck and trailer was parked. We hustled inside to eat warm food and discuss plans; we unanimously agreed to sleep for two hours. Crawling inside the trailer with layers of warm blankets, sleeping bags and pillows I fell asleep.

When Michael’s dad awoke us we felt as if we slept a full night. We ate again and quickly packed for the next section, a combination run and bike for ten miles where we would pick up the other two bikes and go on a long ride into the night. The first part was easy as we reminded our bodies how to move again in the crisp daylight. Cathy and I would run for about 20 minutes and then trade with Michael and Brent. After an hour and a half we found the drop zone and jumped on the other two bikes and started riding into the forest.

This ride would prove to be a challenge. We rode hard into the afternoon, navigating along logging roads until we found an unrideable trail that we hiked up with our bikes and came to a set of beautiful lakes. The view was amazing and just as we checked in with the race official three or four teams passed us, including the Swedes who were much stronger than us but who had made critical errors in the "land of the lost" and fallen behind. Everyone was heading down a faint trail from the lakes into a steep forest where at the bottom ran the Nooksack river. Just before the river we planned to find an old trail which would lead us to a gravel logging road and across the river. As we followed the busy teams down the hill Cathy made us stop and look at the map, which turned out to be a good thing because everyone was headed in the wrong direction. We reoriented ourselves in the correct direction and slogged through the thick brush with our bikes until one in the morning, thankfully emerging onto the road where we could ride our mountain bikes. We were relieved after wandering in the thicket in total darkness to be out.

We refilled our water supply at a nearby creek and continued the ride. After a few more hours I realized I couldn’t keep my bike in a straight line behind Brent. I went through the reasons in my mind why I wobbled around the dirt road, thinking maybe I didn’t have good balance, or perhaps not enough experience. It never occurred to me I was becoming mentally fatigued. Brent insisted on attaching the tow cord between us, which helped me stay in a straighter path. We rode towards Baker Lake, but before reaching the lake stopped to wait up for Michael and Cathy. When they reached us they were walking their bikes because Cathy made Michael stop riding, as he was riding into the ditch. Both he and I were incapable of staying awake on our bicycles, our minds would black out for a few seconds and we were off the road. After a quick pow wow we decided to sleep for one hour. Curling up in my emergency blanket never felt so good, but the next moment Cathy was yelling at me to get up.

Feeling somewhat better we rode about an hour to the checkpoint where we left our bikes and hiked through a beautiful old growth forest along the lake for 16 miles. The sun rose and illuminated Mt. Baker beyond the trees. I lamented that the morning felt like a therapeutic and relaxing yoga session after a long thrashing through the woods with our bikes, sometimes just a useless contraption of wheels and metal we lugged along. As we walked into the TA our support crew cheered us on and we plopped into the chairs set out for us. Tap wiped our feet down with a moist cloth while his wife Heidi, a massage therapist, worked on our backs as we wolfed down cheeseburgers my dad had just brought. It was the royal treatment. We promptly crawled into our sleeping quarters and passed out.

	"Several times while bushwhacking in the forest I seriously doubted our navigation..."

We awoke after one and a half hour sleep to quickly pack and plot a course for another long bike ride. This time we would wind our way through more low elevation wooded mountains, similar to what we had already done. We headed out in the afternoon and thought of the impending darkness only hours away. An hour out we came across a swift stream and found a good spot to wade across the icy water. We bushwhacked again but only for a few minutes to a dirt road, and started riding hard towards CP 19, the top of a heavily wooded mountain. The friendly Swedes passed us again and we exchanged a few happy remarks with them. Apparently they had spent the night out in the woods descending from the two lakes, having only their biking shorts and jerseys to comfort them during the frosty night. We took separate roads toward the top of the mountain, and then found foot trails to hike and push our bikes to the top. The forest was again thick and carrying the bikes a chore, but by midnight we made the top and were disappointed to see total darkness. Wandering around we found a white tarp around two trees that signified the checkpoint. Next to the tarp was a tent with two race officials who had fallen asleep and let their fire burn out, a crucial signal to the checkpoint. After shaking them awake they signed us off and we began our descent towards the other side of the valley. Luckily we knew that as we descended we would soon encounter a dirt road to ride down.

Before riding down the mountain we bundled up to stay warm. For some reason our bike lights mounted on the handlebars were very dim. We thought it must be the cheap batteries that had been put in at the last TA. Riding down that night we had to go very slow and focus on the barely visible beam in front of us. The shadows seemed to creep into our vision as we hallucinated and struggled to stay awake. Soon team Dirtworld passed us with their strobe like lights, they could see where they were going and flew by us. Finally, reaching the valley below we began winding our way up road systems on the other side, gaining more and more elevation. The next CP was high up near the top and we would need to bushwhack again to get there. The roads got steeper until we had to walk our bikes. When the roads ended we sat down for a minute to eat and discuss. Michael asked Cathy a question, yelled to get her attention, but then we realized she was totally asleep sitting up. We decided to take a much needed sleep for an hour on the side of the road.

Brent awoke us and we put our weary bodies back into motion, and started bushwhacking through the forest up towards a gravel road. Several times while bushwhacking in the forest I seriously doubted our navigation, and I think we all shared the feeling but didn’t dare reveal it to one another in fear of shaking the team’s confidence. That is one aspect of why the four of us worked so well together, that we never would pick on anyone, always graciously helped one another along, and constantly played the guiding role throughout. The only fault was possibly that we were too nice to one another and could have easily pushed harder in a few instances to gain in the rankings.

After a relatively short bushwhack, we found the road and began riding up the mountain, past meadows with lovely views of the valley shrouded in fog below with the occasional farm visible. We stopped to fill water once from a rushing ditch and then rode on to the top where two race officials were enjoying the serene morning. We bundled up for the 25-minute downhill to TA 3, and sped down the gravel road as if we were downhill mountain bike racers. I loved the responsiveness of my new Kona bicycle, the full suspension was a treat to my body, absorbing the bumps much better than my old hard tail bike, and the disc brakes made controlling the bike feel like I was behind the wheel of a sports car.