Austria Strikes Again

Another race in Austria, another mid race cancellation… 

The Mayrhofen Ultra Z101, I won’t lie, scared me. For weeks we over analysed the profile and route. The technicality of the race sounded more on the extreme side of the events I’ve attempted – The climbs were long, steep and many (there were 3 climbs in excess of 1,000m and 2 more just under!). The final descent was almost a whopping 1800m drop over about 8km. The route was self-navigation (not marked). The finisher rate in previous years was less than 50%. But it wasn’t those things that worried us the most, it was the cut off timings there were 31 hours to complete it, this sounded very hard!

When over analysing, we made the mistake of comparing previous finishers times and ITRa scores. We were more worried now. In previous iterations, there were finishers finishing in the final 30 mins with an ITRa score in the mid 600s. Ours were all in the 400s. There were people finishing in the final 3 who’d done sub 30 hour UTMB times (we did 45hrs!) and 19 hour TDS finishers (we did 35 hrs!). Fair to say we were feeling the pressure and were prepared for a long, hard weekend of suffering. 

The day before the race at the race briefing the organisers talked through the course and some of the many difficult sections with cables or high summits or the final boulder section after 80km we’d most likely do at night. They also discussed the weather which was wet and cold with plenty of snow expected on the summits. They said they were monitoring the conditions and would update us. 

The day of the race we might have cheered a little when we received an email advising that there was a course change due to the snow. We wouldn’t be going up the Schonbichler Horn. It looked incredible but as the highest summit over 3000m the conditions were deemed unsafe so we wouldn’t be diverted along the road through the valley instead. The new course was slightly longer but had about 600m less elevation. We felt this made the cut offs more achievable for us and we now had a fighting chance of making the cut offs. 

Start line vibes

45 mins before the race start we were at the start line ready to have our kit checked and receive our trackers. There we were told the the start would be delayed by 1 hour due to the rain. It was absolutely pouring it down. We were there in full waterproofs and were already soaked from walking down from the accommodation! So whilst annoying that we were delayed (and would now definitely be doing the boulder field in the dark the following night), we saw the benefit of hopefully starting in drier conditions!

Torrential rain and snow capped mountains

Come 6pm, the weather had indeed improved and we were off. After a fast start along the road and the climb to the village of Finkenberg, we soon entered the forest. Quickly the field of 60 or so runners spread out and the four of us settled near the back of the pack. Soon we were separating out amongst ourselves. Whilst aiming and wanting to run together, we we each individually focused on getting through the first two climbs as quickly as possible to assess our situation and timings. 

These first two climbs of the route were huge. We’d climb 1300 on the first climb over about 9km and then over 1500m on the second climb. We’d see approximately 3000m of climb in the first 30km. With the amended route, that was now almost half the total elevation gain of the route! Paul and Darryl were ahead and I was a little further back then Matt a little behind me as we climbed. The climb was steep but the terrain friendly with mostly dirt tracks through the forest. We followed short, narrow switchbacks up endlessly through the forest. Eventually Darryl was lost to sight as I caught up with Paul and Matt close to us both. 

We broke through the forest towards Gamshutte, the first aid station. There was a short out and back section to the refuge where we saw Darryl was already on his way down. The rest of us climbed up the last few hundred metres and took a few minutes to sort our fuel and eat before heading back down. The day light was diminishing and we put our head torches on. Paul had issues with his torch so Matt provided the light whilst he fixed it and I ran on. 

The descent was steep and frantic as we dropped 1,000m. The trail here was again short switch backs but with loose wet soil. I ran freely with gravity assisting the pace. The forest was so dark and quiet. Despite still having some light outside, the dense trees blocked it all from reaching us and we ran under the feint glow of our head torches. A few times I slipped, the wet mud causing a few scares and the sharp hairpin bends keeping me focused. Luckily I never fell and in no time at all I was nearing the bottom, somewhat hot and out of breath. 

As I continued there was no sign of any of the others, neither Darryl ahead of me nor Paul or Matt behind me. From here I knew the course would be pathed and gravelled road running through several smaller villages that gradually climbed before the next ascent really started. I stopped quickly and tightened my laces then set off, knowing I’d need to run as much as this section as I could to give myself a proper chance of finishing within the cut offs. I ran on and on and on. It was so long. The climb was the sort of climb at home I wouldn’t run, a gradual incline of about 300m over 9km or so. I kept on running though. My frustration was that, despite running it all, I was never catching the glimmers of head torches I’d see in the distance and was even overtaken a few times. I kept my head strong though and didn’t let this phase me or stop me running. 

Eventually there was another aid station on the side of the road. An extra unexpected one at the start of the next climb. Due to the diverted route we’d come back here the next day, so I think that’s why it was there. I was glad and refilled my bottles ready for the 1300m climb over about 3km.

We started in the forest. Wow it was steep. Big lunging steps and rocks covered the path through the forest. The climb was endless short switch backs with no real break from the steepness. It took about an hour to get through the forest section, where we then climbed on the open mountain. It was dark. It was mostly off track. The ground was saturated with water. Looking up, I could see up high in the sky was an array of head torches lighting up the route. To my left the summit, clearly covered in snow and white in the darkness of night. 

As I climbed the wet grass gave way to white snow. At 2000m the ground was covered in a thin layer of it. I could see why there were concerns about the snow that changed the course – we’d still be climbing close to 3,000m later on and already the snow level was down around the 2,000m mark! Regardless though, I plodded on. For an age. As I reached the higher level where I could see head torches starting the snowy summit I could feel the air getting much, much colder. I was aware and told myself I would layer up before too long to ensure I wasn’t cold when we summited.

There was a path somewhere!

I carried on. Slowly using my poles to drag my ass up. I did stop half way up the final ascent section to put on my coat and gloves. I couldn’t fit my fingers into my gloves properly so just rammed them in as best I could, knowing that eventually they would warm up and I’d have more manoeuvrability when they weren’t so cold. The climb was slow but eventually I summited about 2 hours after I started. As I breached the saddle, wow! the view was infinite. In the dark of night the full moon lit up the mountains all around me. The sky was so clear and as far as I could see there were snow covered mountains. Such a view was worth the climb!

Moonlight lighting up the night after the second climb

From here we traversed the side of the mountain towards Friesenberghaus hut. Way off I could see it. Lit up in the night. Beyond it head torches leaving and continuing the journey on towards the next mountains and refuge. I carried on, eager to get to the aid station. Then the route got harder. What looked like a quick traverse became a slow steady scramble as I climbed over huge snow covered rocks. They were so slippery. The only good thing was that the previous runners had compressed enough snow to make it easier for me to navigate the boulders and follow in the footsteps of those before me. It was quite nerve wracking with the slippery rocks. 

The Freisenberghaus Hutte- the end of my race. A few head torches can be seen on their way to the next refuge.

Eventually I crossed the boulders and and the path became more clear and I trusted my footings again. Out of nowhere two ladies ran passed me. Again I was amazed how fast they were moving as I was running too and not exactly taking my time. It is always so impressive to see how quick and fearless other runners are! 

Into the aid station I arrived and immediately stared chatting with the volunteers. They were so friendly and helpful. They filled my bottles and gave me warm beef soup. As I was chatting the lady answered the phone and I heard her say “oh no”. Then it came. They said the race had been terminated. The weather conditions had deteriorated and they were concerned about the route further along and the safety of runners. It was an odd feeling. It didn’t phase me in anyway. Just pure “oh well” acceptance. I took more soup and chatted with them some more. They told me there was another hiking path and I could descend to a road after 5km where they would arrange transport for us. I told them I’d wait for my two other friends to arrive (Darryl had already passed through) and went inside the refuge to wait in the warmth. Inside the two ladies and 3 more runners were also warming up. I noticed immediately that they were all wearing snow spikes. No wonder they were so confident with their running, although, I wouldn’t have wanted to wear spikes on the big boulders!

After a while I went back outside to look for Paul and Matt. I could see two head torches in the distance, probably finishing up the boulder section. The volunteer checked the tracker and confirmed it was them. She also confirmed Darryl was out of sight and on his way to the next aid station (which was a short section only about 5 km away). She asked me if I wanted to tell them the news or leave it to her. I said I would but that they wouldn’t believe me. I called out in the night and cheered them in. Then I broke the news. As predicted, they didn’t believe me. She confirmed, it took them a few moments to come to the realisation that it was no joke. Disappointment set in.

We went inside in the warmth and had more soup before taking the descent down off the mountain. It was a long 5km path as we descended 700m to the lake. The terrain not much better with large rocks and saturated paths. We had a few stream crossings and a very slippery wooden bridge to navigate to the road by the lake. Here we waited and maybe 5-10 mins later a mountain rescue team arrived and collected us. We started driving home before turning around and heading the opposite way. We drove to the halfway aid station and picked up more runners (and our drop bags). The cramped medical van drove us so far before we pulled over and squished into a taxi for the rest of the journey. We did eventually get back to Mayrohfen and, thanks to Paul’s boldness, we also got the taxi to stop outside our accommodation to save us a ten minute walk back through the town. 

On the journey we discussed our thoughts and feelings. A few times the idea of getting up early and doing one of the other races (the 50 or 30kms perhaps) came up. But it was too late. We didn’t get to sleep till 5am and those races had early starts and buses to the start lines. It took us a while to realise the extent of our work out too. We still ran 35km with 3000m of ascent at night. It was no easy run and we were all a little achy when we did eventually wake up that day! 

One thing is certain, for now, no more runs in the temperamental Austria mountains!

Glossglockner Ultra Trail

We arrived into Kaprun to be welcomed by the rain. Immediately on the drive in the mountains were spectacular, towering above us in all directions. We managed one dry little hike the day before the race. Other than that, it rained, sometimes torrentially, for the few days we were there before the race. We also took advantage of the physio taping available, each addressing our own little niggles. Mine, some weird heel issue that has come out of nowhere to cause me pain (so much so that I added Codeine to my medical kit incase I needed to ‘block it out’).

Whilst the rest of us enjoyed a lazy morning, Ale did the 37km race, where he ran along the first 30km of our route, only in the opposite direction back to where we would be starting later that night. At the finish, he was soaked, but happy. That afternoon, the safety briefing for our race was released. It was comprehensive and very detailed. As we suspected it might be, the course for the other races was changed. For the 110k there were two changes, both in the second half of the course, we’d lose elevation gain and instead be re-directed through the valleys rather than up and over the mountains. We were ok with this change, the other potential change (that we were aware of) that could have happened was a complete re-route of the first 30km where we’d follow a road around the mountain. We were glad we wouldn’t be doing this diversion. They also changed the cut-offs, reducing the overall cut off by 2 hours. I guess that suggested the course would be ‘easier’. It didn’t affect my plan though – I intended to finish within 28 hours as that was the time required to use the race as a qualification for the Western States (WSER) run which I keep trying to get into.

Me and ‘Zincke’ twinning at the start

At the start line it was raining hard. Jon and I kept dry as long as we could. Just before starting the rain eased up and the MC indicated that they didn’t think it would rain anymore. Knowing we would be climbing uphill for pretty much the first few hours (we’d cover just shy of 2,000m elevation gain in the first 20km), I removed my coat to avoid overheating. Naturally, as soon as we started running it began raining again…

Running through the streets

The route started in the main town square. Immediately we were walking as they funnelled the runners right after the start line for some reason. Then it was a free for all along the road. I ran with Jon to begin with. After a short while we left the road onto some wider gravel tracks and then about 2km later we hit a climb. The poles came out as we slowed to a walk up the switchback narrow tracks. But it didn’t last long and we flattened out pretty quickly and started running again. I kept moving with the crowd and lost Jon in the masses. After the climb we ran first through muddy fields and past a building site/quarry of some sort before we were back on the wide gravel tracks again. It was an ever so gradual incline as we ran passed the Sigmund Thun Klamm Wasserfall that was spectacularly lit up in different colours in the night.

A picture Jon captured of the waterfall. Far better than the one I attempted to capture!

It proceed to rain and piss down as we made our way uphill, the climb getting steeper and steeper. There was a combination of narrow tracks, switch backs and wide roads. Occasionally, heavy machinery passing us on the roads in the night. We made our way through numerous tunnels, some on the roads, and some on the trails. They added a bit of adventure to the course. So far, so good. The climb was long, but easy going. The terrain was varied and, early on, at its hardest it was because of the water and how muddy the trails were. We weaved around the mountain, crossing many streams through the early hours. I was soaked right through, head to toe, but mostly warm. I told myself I’d re-assess the clothing options at the first checkpoint once we got higher. The decision was almost made for me as we passed through the bigger of the tunnels, running inside a narrow footpath beside the road.

As we emerged back out to the footpath, there was a queue of runners and a marshal. We were going to navigate along the cliff edge. There was no path anymore, just slippery rocks and a sheer drop below us. There were metal rungs occasionally there to aid our step and a metal cable along side for support. It was slow going. The worst part, above us over the mountain, the water was gushing down and we were essentially crossing a waterfall. It was a cold, midnight shower. Suddenly I was drenched and freezing and knew I’d need to put on a warmer layer at the aid station. Thankfully it was just around the corner once we were back on solid ground.

We were 2,000m up now. It was much colder. There was a large gazebo on the side of the road. It was the first aid station, Mooserboden. Like me, other runners were changing tops/putting on jackets as a priority. I put my coat straight on. Whilst I was wet underneath, I knew keeping the cold, windy air off my body would be sufficient to keep me warm. The effort of the climbing would mean my body temperature wouldn’t drop. I quickly had some warm potato soup (amazing!), filled my bottles and set back off.

A picture Jon took somewhere along the first climb. That might be the first aid station shining bright in the distance

Now we had one of the more spectacular sections of the race, alongside the damns and reservoirs above Kaprun. Only it was about 1am, so there was nothing for me to see. The route here was fairly flat and a mixture of pathed roads running across the damns, then rocky trails along side the streams that fed the reservoirs. It was undulating with a few climbs and again very muddy on the trails. I wasn’t expecting this, but it made so much sense. Even in the darkness I could sense the presence of the mountains, they were huge and dominating. They create their own weather system in the area and the vastness of the water-cycle became obvious.

After 4 or 5 km of these trails we started climbing again. It was steeper than before. Again, initially muddy, then progressively steeper and rockier. The rocks became boulders and it was a slow slog. Occasionally a little scrambling was required. Watching videos of the course I was mentally prepared and had put my poles away along time ago. They wouldn’t help on the giant, slippery rocks and the freedom of my hands for scrambling was a definite winner. At the top, a narrow squeeze through the rocks took us over the summit. I took a mount to breathe, looked down and assess the descent.

It started with a slow scramble down, using my hands to lower myself between rocks. The rocky switch backs then dominated the track as we weaved down slowly. As the rocks became smaller, the trail became narrower and wetter once more. I was moving freely though. Behind me another runner stuck with my pace and we started talking. It was a guy called Jakob. Between us we struggled to navigate in the darkness. The mist and clag severely limited our vision and the head torches couldn’t pick up the reflection of the course markings. It was slow but steady progress together. Thankfully I remained upright throughout, despite the odd bog reaching above my shins. For parts the trails reminded me of the boggy trails I’d run in Norway.

After the descent the trails were similar to before – flooded, muddy and narrow. Once more we weaved across many mountain streams as we made our way to the next climb. This one was a little slower going. It felt steeper, the rocks felt bigger and my breathing felt heavier. We were open to the elements up high and the wind was howling. After about 300m or so we emerged at the next aid station Rudolfshutte. Jakob set about tending to his feet and I went and had a few vegetable soups. The warmth and saltiness of the soups were delicious. Best I’ve had on a race for a long time. I didn’t stop long and went straight back out.

In the darkness of the night I ran down the path out of the aid station, a straight, fairly steep downhill that woke the legs up. It wasn’t long, although with the mist I couldn’t tell. At the bottom I found myself running with a few others. It was stop start as we navigated the course with difficulty. After a while we completely lost track of all markings and found ourselves to be off course. We’d followed the more obvious path, but now needed to back track a few hundred meters. Back on course we were climbing again. Just like before, out in the open on the mountain, steep rocks leading us up. There were no switch backs here. Just head down and follow a straight line up to the summit of the climb. It was once again slow going but I kept moving. The higher we climbed the colder it got.

An Image Jon took showing the terrain on some of the climbs. I assume this was the last summit before the long descent giving the darkness had gone and he wasn’t far behind me.

When I reached the summit, I felt on top of the world. Morning was slowly breaking and the darkness of night was becoming more grey in the rain. Visibility was improving as I headed straight back down. I knew now it was all down hill to the half-way mark. It was about 16-18km of downhill though! The initial descent was steep as we clambered over the boulders to lower ground. Then we followed narrow switchbacks on loose scree. The ankles were screaming, but the descent was quick. After descending a few hundred meters the incline decreased and the trails became less rocky.

The morning was clearing up, the rain stopped and I finally had enough light to get a glimpse of the surroundings. Wow! We were in a vast valley. Surrounded by huge mountains. It reminder me of those in the French Alps. All around us were spectacular rock formations and huge waterfalls. I tried to take some pictures, but the lighting didn’t do it justice. Jakob went flying passed me as I continued to plod down. Way off in the distance was a lake where I could see runners heading too. From there who knows where the course would take me…

It felt like an eternity, trundling with wet, muddy trails and dry gravel tracks to make any progress. Occasional short inclines brought brief moments of rest. I was conscious that I was going to destroy my quads, but this was probably going to be the best trails and terrain I’d get for any consistent running, so kept moving. Partway down there was a water stop at a farm. Well, water and beer. I filled my bottles (with water!) and left, carrying on the consistent pace where possible. There was another runner here, Jan that I started chatting with and we ran pretty much all the way to the aid station together.

At one point on the descent, the trail took us through another tunnel. Jan was way ahead at this point as I entered and tried to film the tunnel. It was however longer than I expected and pitch black inside. As I ran I fumbled around to find my head torch. It was a huge tunnel. As I ran I could here a rumble. It was loud. Like the night before I assumed there were works and heavy machinery somewhere. It grew louder and louder and I couldn’t ascertain where it was coming from. Then I looked behind me and saw a faint glow of headlights. There was something very big coming behind me! I stepped up the pace. I was almost sprinting in the dark. There was no where to step aside in the tunnel. I could see the daylight ahead and ran as fast as my tired legs would take me. Outside Jan was waiting and moments after me a huge tractor and trailer emerged right behind me. I made it just in time! A race within a race.

The last few kms into the aid station were a walk run as we ran through the town and up to the aid station. As I arrived the 50km runners were lining up about to start. The MC called out “one minute to go”. I looked for my friends in the crowd but couldn’t see them. So I started screaming their names. The runners loved it. Many cheered back, many clapped me and there were a few hi-fives too as they set off running passed me in the opposite direction, to begin their own adventures.

Inside, I got my drop bag and did a full kit change, dried and cleaned my feet, reapplied some tape and had a nice warm pasta dish. I spent a little over 30mins preparing myself. I felt good. Very good. It had taken just over 10 hours to get through Kals, which was just shy of 50km. As tough mountain 50kms go, it was alright! For comparison it took over 13 hours to do a similar distance at the Dolomiti Extreme Trail recently and Stranda Fjord 3 years ago took me about 12 hours. I psyched myself up to head back out in the rain, optimistic I’d be finishing far quicker than I planned for.

The long, diverted climb after Kals where my race ended

Only I didn’t realise just how quickly I’d be finishing… After leaving the aid station we were on wide un-pathed roads. Climbing almost immediately. Some parts were fairly steep but overall it was a manageable incline to hike steadily. I passed the turning where the original course would have take and probably got about 2-3km along, climbed maybe 300m before I saw a runner coming down hill. I assumed they were either not in the race or had decided to quit and return to Kals. Then they stopped me and explained the race had been stopped. Cancelled. It was over. Due to weather conditions near the GlocknerHause the organisers had decided to stop the races and runners were to return to the nearest Aid Station (either Kals I’d just left or to GloreHutte for those further along). I was in disbelief. I didn’t want to believe them I stayed there and waited as they headed back down. A few moments later more runners were coming. Acceptance set in. Once of the runners was Jan and he confirmed he’d spoken to his wife who’d said the same. Begrudgingly I turned around and began slowly heading back to Kals too. On the way down more and more runners passed me.

As I descended I got chatting to another, a French chap. We acknowledged it was disappointing but safety is always the right call. He said that the organisers were arranging for buses to transport runners back to Kaprun from the aid stations. At Kals, I looked for Jon and the others but couldn’t find them. Then a lady announced there were two buses. I made sure I was on one. An hour and a half later I was back in Kals where it all began. A whole day ahead of me with no idea how to use it!

As disappointing as it is, it’s always the right decision for an organiser to prioritise safety of runners above everything else. People will moan, but no organiser wants to cancel their race! I was glad to get on the first bus (good timing!) as some of the others waited hours for buses. The only thing I’d criticise is that since the race was cancelled, and still, there has been no communication from the organisers whatsoever to participants directly. An explanation of some sort would be appreciated. That said, I’d definitely go back to this race and finish the job! I was running well and on for a good time! I also feel bad for my friends on the 50km race that only managed a few kms before their race was cancelled less than an hour after they began!

Later that week I emailed the organiser of WSER to see what the situation would be regarding qualifiers. They quickly responded saying they’d still accept the GGUT as a qualifier IF I’d reached GloreHutte before it was cancelled. Sadly I didn’t and was probably still a few hours away from that point. So I immediately went off looking for another qualifier. I looked at several options and begrudgingly signed up to run the North Downs Way 100, again. Logistically it was the easiest and most sensible option. The race is next week… yeah, a 100mile event at a week’s notice can be ‘sensible’ with this addiction!