"Parlay vous Adventure Racing?" - Raid Series, Bend, OR

Because you demanded it (didn't you?) Because you can't get enough of it (right?). Because you're on the list... You're now practically up to date on the 2005 adventure racing season (okay, I snuck a little race in yesterday. Only 7 1/2 hours, hardly worth the electrons...) Without further ado:

This brings us to The Raid Series. A four-part international series of incredibly fast, technical, and competitive races. Currently, it's the only way to qualify for the race that started it all -- the Raid Gauloises.

Adventure Racing History 101:

1989 -- French journalist Gerard Fusil gets the idea to combine the expedition style of exploring new, uncharted places with the grandiose spectacle of overland racing such as the multi-day Paris to Dakar motor rally. The combination results in the very first "adventure race" in New Zealand - a multi-day, 400-mile plus TEAM race in which all members must complete the course together using only human-powered means of travel while respecting and cherishing the environment. These teams would have to navigate to various points along the "journey" (a.k.a. race) and the first to cross the finish line with all members would be crowned the winner. Simple, eh?

These days, you can find many permutations of this original idea in nearly all 50 states and scores of countries around the world. Thousands upon thousands of athletes and millions of fans participate and witness the most unique sporting event on earth. That's right, I said it here -- the greatest (and most insane) sport on earth.

For the 2005 edition of the Raid Series, the first three races have now taken place in Western Australia, Sweden, and Bend, Oregon with the final stop to take place in the small country of Andorra nestled between Spain and France. The Raid series recognizes teams by their country of origin. The culmination of the series -- the Raid Gauloises -- strives for parity among participants by accepting specific numbers of teams based on geographic regions. For this year's race, they will take up to 6 teams from North America (US, Canada), 10 teams from Western Europe, 4 teams from the Pacific Rim region (Australia, NZ), and so on around the world until the 50+ spots are filled.

At the outset of the year, we, Team Silly Rabbits, set our sites on qualifying for one of the 6 North American spots. Since the races are so spread out across the globe, many teams do not participate in every race, leaving more room to participate in fewer qualifying races in order to collect the necessary points to be invited to the Raid Gauloises. We figured we'd have to compete in at least 2 of the 4 Raid Series races to assure ourselves of one of the North American spots. Without spoiling anything, we're changed our plans a bit and will not be attending the race in Andorra as previously planned, leaving our fate to this one race. Though slim our chance may be, we decided to skip the main Raid Gauloises for 2005 due to the cost and time.

Off to Bend we go. But first, a stop in Portland, Oregon to visit our amazing sponsor SALOMON SPORTS. We've been blessed to hook up with a true champion of adventure racing and outdoor sports and a great company overall. Salomon's generous sponsorship includes an incredible array of footwear, technical race clothes, outerwear, packs, and casual wear PLUS some monetary sponsorship, which actually makes us true "professional" adventure racers now (imagine that... doing it for 'fun' all this time). The folks at Salomon Sports could not be a nicer bunch of people, so if you see the Salomon van driving around your city, give our man Dave Munk a big honk and a wave and tell him you know the Silly Rabbits!

Salomon treated us to lunch at their headquarters where they take up a small slice of the multi-building Adidas campus. They got us hooked up with some more fantastic gear while we met the top dogs and enjoyed a little fun time on the soccer field during Bring Your Kids to Work Day (no not us! the real employees' kids had their day, too). To prove how nice he truly is, Dave invited us to crash at his house Wednesday night after our 10 hour driving trip. Hi, Boone! (that's his doggy).

Okay, enough sucking up... time to suck some wind in the beautiful high desert around the volcanic peaks in and around Bend. We arrived in Bend on Thursday and got situated in the Mt. Bachelor Village along with dozens of other teams from 12 countries including: Australia, Denmark, Switzerland, France, Canada, Spain, the UK, and New Zealand. For this race we were joined by part of the Rabbit's racing familia... literally. Jason's little brother, Corey, would crew for us over the two day race. He watched in amazement as we poured out nearly two tons of gear onto the floor of the room. Salomon hosted a party for the racers at a local outdoor shop that evening complete with local beer and food. It was a nice relaxing prelude to a long weekend of extremes.

Friday was check-in day, where the Rabbits -- myself, Jason, John (back from his ankle injury), and Lisa (fresh off a Rabbit victory in LA -- didn't you read the last report?) -- went through some paperwork, a thorough gear check, and picked out a boat from the race staff which we would have to transport with us throughout the race. Friday night was the usual scramble to get gear organized, eat a carbohydrate filled meal, and the not-so-usual ordeal of determining which teammates would compete in which stages of the race.

Yes, for this race, each team would only field three of its four teammates in each section. The only rule stated that the female on your team could only sit out up to 3 stages. This race would have 9 stages, so teams had the difficult decisions of trying to field their best three racers in each section with this stipulation. NOT that the females are the weakest racers, trust me! It's just a tough strategy game. Never having done a race like this and not wanting to step on each other's toes, we had a difficult time of assigning sections.

The race would begin at 6am on Saturday morning at the foot of Mt. Bachelor, rising over 2000 feet from base to summit. And wouldn't ya know it, we'd have to climb up every single inch of it. For Section 1, it would be me, John, and our only teammate with any real snowshoe experience Lisa (hailing from Colorado versus the beach, ya dig?). The section would be 25km (about 15 miles) of overland foot travel beginning with a lung-busting trek straight up the Mt. Bachelor ski resort. Snow was still prevalent in the area, so crampons were required for the up-and-over-Mt. Bachelor part of this first section. Most teams chose to put them on before the start in order to save a bit of time from having to put them on at the mandatory point higher up on the mountain.

This race had quite an assortment of mandatory gear that we'd have to lug in EVERY section (emphasis for frustration and incredulity, see later sections). The gear included a plethora of warm/weather-proof clothing, a candle (?), folding knife, headlamps, glowsticks, and a tent! Plus the usual medical and emergency stuff. Add in the crampons, trekking poles, water and food, and we were loaded for bear on this first section.

Bang. The gun went off at 6am sharp and over 150 competitors (53 teams x 3 persons each) trounced, plodded, high-stepped, shuffled, tripped, scrambled, and ran up the slopes. Another unique component of this race would be that electronic GPS units would be completely legal (and mandatory to carry) on all sections. We purchased a bottom of the line model knowing that it would be the only race for the forseeable future in which we'd use it, however it came in handy, especially on this first section. A GPS unit takes information from satellites and gives you your exact location. It also tells you how far you are from your desired point and which direction to travel in order to get there. Yes, a big fat cheat device in an adventure race where 90% of the idea behind the race is that you're going into the unknown. But since everyone was on an even field, and it was mandatory, we'd have to grin and bear it. One of our forte's is navigation, so it wouldn't favor us.

Up, up, up, crunch, crunch, crunch through the packed snow we tramped. We arrived in the top third of teams at the summit of Mt. Bachelor, and without nary a glance around at the incredible vistas, sure enough, we bombed down the backside, slipping, sliding, shuffling, skating, and scrunching down the steep, snowy, volcanic rock strewn slopes. We eventually leveled out into a beautiful forest wilderness area. Teams were lock step behind each other going uphill, but not so on the downhill. It was essentially a free for all once the mandatory flagging ended on the way down. Teams disappeared at different angles into the trees and into an eerie silence. Amazing how fast 150 people all heading for the same spot can disperse so quickly.

The forest floor proved easy enough travel, though seeing more than a few hundred feet ahead proved difficult through all the trees. So, I pulled out our GPS unit (not that a good old fashioned compass wouldn't have sufficed) and switched on the arrow device which would keep us constantly updated on the direction to the next checkpoint which we had pre-programmed in. We came across some friends from Canadian team Supplier Pipeline for a few minutes until they jetted off and then hooked up with our old dear friends from Team Wellsport deep in the forest about halfway to the next checkpoint which sat high up another hill behind Mt. Bachelor. Most of the Western teams aren't familiar or comfortable with the GPS, and Wellsport wasn't employing theirs. We trekked out to a main trail that we had hoped to catch a little earlier and found ourselves with a clear path to the base of the next hill. From here, we joined up with another American team and started up a fire road that thankfully was heading in the right direction, yet wasn't on our maps.

At a point, we decided to turn off the fire road because it was starting to veer in the wrong direction. Wellsport continued on it. We made the right call and found some easy off-trail travel to the next checkpoint. From high in a saddle (a geographic spot between two peaks), we got a quick bearing on our next target 5+ miles away and then raced back down into the flats of the forest. We angled for a fire road that would take us towards the transition area, and while many teams got lost in a maze of snowmobile and bike trails, I employed my third grade reading skills to match up the trail signs nailed to the trees with the trails indicated on my map. Not to poke fun at the many teams who got lost, I just found it pretty straightforward getting through. We checked in at one last point before the transition and were informed that we were running in the top 20 teams... not bad, not great.

Four hours after the start, we reconnected with Jason, our all-star crew guy Corey, and our gear and food. Yet another unique feature of this race (and series) is that your racing time stops when you are in transition. The only time that gets counted is the actual time that you spend racing. Once you check in at the end of a section, you can rest and relax in transition... to a degree. Each section had a window in which you can begin. So, we could begin Section 2 anywhere between 10am and noon. Coming in at around 10am, in theory we could take 2 hours before we had to leave to start section 2 without it counting to our overall race time. However, we'd have to be careful to check the start window for the next section in order to have enough time to make that.

This style makes for a very fast race as the top teams do get good recovery time between stages. On the flipside, if you were racing towards the other end of the spectrum and were having a hard time making the start windows, you either didn't rest much or you had the option of skipping a section and taking a time penalty. Thankfully we made all the cut-offs with plenty of room, though we would ultimately be no match for the powerhouses that made up the top of the field.

Section 2 -- A 64km (roughly 40 miles) mountain bike leg. This section and the section we just completed would be the few sections with any type of navigation requirements. And on this section, we proved why Jason is one of the top navigators out there. Fresh and raring to go, Jason led John and I out into a technical, rocky, rolling mass of bike trails. Panting like dogs, John and I hung on and were determined to try to stay within reach of Jason and his top bike skills. I don't think we touched the brakes more than a half dozen times as Jason navigated perfectly from checkpoint to checkpoint. About 8 of the top 10 teams incurred a time penalty for going the wrong way at one point. We eventually came out of the technical sections onto a long stretch of fast, loose fire roads. We caught up to and rode with a nice Danish team who we'd end up racing alongside in many other sections. We rode and rode on what seemed like endless fire roads, eventually came to a reservoir... and then had to ride all the way around it. In the end, we had one of the fastest times in the entire field for this section. A small thing to be proud of.

Next up: a 30km (18 miles) paddle section. The boats for this race, provided by the race management and transported by each team, were these large, super tough, inflatable three-seat canoe-style rigs -- slow and sometimes unwieldy in high winds. We were extremely unfamiliar with these boats and it cost us considerable time figuring out the best way to steer and paddle them. All in the name of experience. Before launching, we got some decent rest -- to the tune of nearly 40 minutes -- on the shores of a beautiful reservoir. In this race, you're usually not racing the teams around you because they could either be way ahead or way behind you (in terms of overall time), so we had to keep in mind that we were only racing ourselves (the clock) as we paddled alongside a few other teams. The wind kicked up in the mid-afternoon as we paddled across the reservoir and into a narrow channel the would lead to another lake. In this channel, we found ourselves suddenly paddling upstream! Yes, this channel was flowing in the opposition direction. Adventure... We were only allowed to portage (carry) our boats in one pre-designated place along this section, however it was nearly impossible to fight the current in spots, so we had to get out and drag out boats upstream as we waded torso deep in the water.

We finally got to the mandatory 1 mile portage, heaved the boat up onto our shoulders, slowly walked down a dirt road, and relaunched into the next white-capped reservoir. Getting a bit loopy being cooped up in such close quarters, Jason, John, and I made the best of our time together by laughing and joking as we pulled for the far shore. We were maintaining a steady position in the top 15-20 teams, and got out of the water in good spirits, though frustrated at our lack of paddling prowess.

The next section would be a fast 18 km (11 mile) in-line skating section on a nice smooth, slightly uphill road through the forest. Lisa, Jason, and I laced up the skates and rolled off a pretty fast time of 45 minutes for this section. My job was to be the mule and pull the others as I would sit out the next section. Apolo Ohno...look out.

Taking the last rest of the first day of the Raid race, we wanted to get out onto this 21km trek with as much daylight as possible. It was about 7pm and we figured to have roughly 1.5 hours of good light. As mentioned, I was finally taking a breather so John, Jason, and Lisa tackled this section -- a relatively flat foot section that would take teams back to the base of Mt. Bachelor where we had begun over 13 hours before. My job was by no means done as Corey and I packed up the gear, headed to town to get some food for everyone, and made camp in the Mt. Bachelor parking lot for the night.

The way the sections were spread out, the window to start Section 6 of the race wouldn't open until 6am the next morning. The team that was leading the race finished Section 5 at roughly 7:45pm, so they'd have nearly 10 hours to rest, recover, sleep if desired (!) and prepare for the start of the next stage. We took about 3 hours to complete the section, finishing it at around 10pm, in the dark. I didn't get much down time as I also cleaned our bikes for the remaining two bike sections and tried to make the best of our sleeping arrangements after our 1 hour round trip to town. We would utilize the back of Corey's truck, John's car, and a borrowed tent from a friend. We ate, refueled, and crashed out....

Daylight came too early. It was probably hovering around 35-40 degrees at 5:30am when we shook off the frost and prepared for "Day 2". They would stagger the start since about 30 teams were lined up to begin at 6am. The top ten teams in terms of overall time would start in intervals and then the other teams would check in and begin in a closer pack. This section was essentially a 27km (16 mile) "downhill" mountain bike ride. It was indeed about 95% downhill with a few minor ups tossed in for good measure. Jason, Lisa, and I tackled this section. There were a few decisions to make at some trail junctions, and once again, Jason got an A+ for making all the right calls. A few top teams came screaming by us towards the end, frustrated after having made the wrong turns up above.

We peeled off our layers and inflated our canoe-boat for a 19km (11 mile) down river paddling section. Most teams had a considerable time to wait until the window opened for this section. The start would once again be staggered based on the top 10 teams and then the rest of the pack. I sat out this leg and had to race with Corey to the next transition because it would likewise be a relatively fast section. Our lack of paddling prowess didn't hurt as badly in this section since we were going with the current and teams didn't gain or lose too much time. We were hanging on somewhere around 15-16th place, within a few minutes of our pals on Wellsport. Not bad company.

As the day warmed up, competitors and crew found the small parking lot on the banks of the river a bit cramped. But there's nothing like adventure racing comraderie anywhere in the sports world. Everyone was having a good time, swapping race stories, and glancing at the light at the end of the tunnel (one section left after this...). Again, we had ample time to rest and prepare for the next section -- a blazing fast 11km (7mile) run down a trail that wound along the Deschutes River towards Bend. John, Lisa, and I would make up the "track" team for this section. The top teams once again went off at regular intervals and then it was every few seconds as the rest of the pack checked in before stepping on the accelerator. Oh, remember my little frustration at having to carry ALL that mandatory gear for the ENTIRE race? Well, imagine having to tackle a fairly innocuous, one-hour run at high noon in 70 degree weather with a tent in your backpack?! And waterproof clothing. And fleece tops. And a candle. And a knife.

Outside of the gear, this section seemed pretty straightforward. There were only two paths along the river and the rules stated that we had to follow the one marked with the brown bicycle path signs. A number of teams thought they had to stick to the narrow and winding footpath that went right along the water, while the majority of the pack rumbled down a straight wide path. In the end, the race director pointed out to a few frustrated teams that it was okay to take either path, which annoyed many teams who lost several minutes to unclear instructions and a little bit of bushwhacking that was required to catch two checkpoints along the way. We went on the straight and easy path and clocked in with a final 200 yard sprint neck-and-neck with a team we hadn't seen much of before. Whew...

John and I took our final rest break of the race. Lisa was officially finished as Jason would be the third teammate for this final leg. The day was truly heating up. Thankfully we had a cool place under some trees. A handful of top teams stomped by us on the way to their crew vehicles, upset at taking the wrong paths and losing time.

The final 35km (20 mile) bike leg would take us back to Bend and reality, but not before some magical riding. We fueled up for the homestretch, gathered our last reserves of energy and joined the line of teams to check in. We sat somewhere around 15/16th place. We were a few minutes in front of Wellsport and about 20 minutes behind the team in front of us. Unfortunately, this whole section would be marked with ribbon, so our navigation would be negated. It would be a flat-out pedal fest to the finish line. If a team ran into mechanical trouble, they could lose considerable time. Or just being a few minutes slower could change a team's position drastically. Going into this section the top 5 teams were less than 15 minutes apart. (we had no worry about catching them...).

A few last deep breaths, a punch of the time clock, and away we went. I'll tell you that this was probably the most incredible single track ride I've ever ridden. We climbed a bit through some loose dirt tracks, wound our way through trees and shallow, dry streams. We carved into berms and cranked up tiny, steep inclines. And then the fun began. We screamed through tight, banked serpentine turns, in and out of trees. For miles. It was exhilarating. Swooshing and swaying, leaning heavily into the turns -- it was a human powered roller coaster ride. We stopped for a few checkpoints along the way, passed two teams very early on, and got passed by our newest friends and rivals from Crested Butte, Colorado. For about the fifth time in nine sections, we raced alongside our Danish friends.

Unfortunately, this good thing came to an end as we spilled out of the forest and onto a road for the last three miles through the town of Bend and to the finish line. We hammered downhill alongside the Danes at about 30 miles per hour, rounded a corner, and nearly met an untimely end as we all skidded to a halt to avoid running over a nice middle-aged woman who was standing in the middle of the road frantically waving her arms for us to make a sharp right hand turn onto a trail. After a few seconds, we recognized that she was a race volunteer pointing us towards the finish. With hearts pounding even harder now, we cruised the last half-mile along the river and zipped under the inflatable Raid Series banner one last time, punched in, and were cheered on by a number of friends, teams, and fans.

16th place overall. Not bad for our first time in this race, though we had hopes of finishing much higher. The lightning pace and lack of navigation didn't favor our strengths, but we chalk it up to a great learning experience, and of course, another amazing adventure.

Race summary: 237 km. 32 hours of overall time. Something like 20 hours of total race time for the Rabbits. A ton of fun. More great memories and a few more friends.

~Rick Baraff
Web Site: Rick Tales of Adventure

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