My attempt at the 44km Mt Difficulty Ascent 2022 first showed its uncertainty 2 weeks before race day when my daughter came down with COVID. At that point I was still a COVID virgin and I thought for sure my chances of racing were now blown. Our family went into isolation and we were all sitting ducks, anxiously waiting to see if we caught the dreaded lurgy. On the last day of isolation, still feeling healthy, I carried out the mandatory COVID testing, my fingers crossed for a negative result. BINGO! It was clear and I was good to go. Phew!
Now I just had the small issue of the massive weather bomb, that was about to hit the Southern Alps, to contend with. This included the Mt Difficulty’s home town, Cromwell, plus a large section of my journey south which was a six hour drive away. Friday morning came and after a quick lesson on how to fit snow chains on the car from the hubby, I was off! I drove South and the beginnings of the storm closed in around me turning Lindis Pass into a winter wonderland. Luckily the road itself still felt safe and I made it through unscathed, high on the freedom of travelling solo.
Unfortunately the weather bomb was not through with me or the other race competitors yet, it had barely even begun. Registration and race briefing that evening proved to be an interesting experience. There was an undertone of anticipation, as not only did we want to hear about the race itself, we were waiting to hear if the race would even go ahead. Terry Davis, the race director, did not disappoint with his briefing. He is a great public speaker and delivers his messages with humour. It’s clearly evident that he takes at least some enjoyment in piquing the competitors’ nerves, as he describes the race’s unique and terrifying challenges in dramatic, but honest, detail. This year he had even more to work with given the current state of the forecast and he was buzzing with excitement. When we left the briefing that night we had no idea how far we would be running the next day although Terry was confident that at least some of the course would still be safe and runnable. It was clear that whatever happened was in the lap of the weather gods.
That night, I was a bundle of anxious nerves and I tossed and turned, sleeping fitfully until my alarm went off at some ungodly time of the morning. To be fair it’s a rare occurrence for anyone on the start line to exclaim what a wonderful night’s sleep they just had. So I would, at least, be in good company.
At race village that morning we waited to hear what our fate would be. Dark and heavy looking clouds loomed behind the mountains and the air was bitterly cold. Terry explained that he had been out on course overnight (what a legend!) and ‘currently’ it was mostly still runnable except for a small section at the highest elevation point. This was subject to change at any time which gave me an uncomfortable uncertainty that did nothing to put my jittery nerves to rest. I definitely wouldn’t be running the 44k’s today that much at least was certain.
Soon after, the starter bell rang and unfortunately I wasn’t feeling great. I was nervous, nauseous and feeling heavy from my period which had inconveniently arrived the day before, making this the first (but not the last) time that I had raced during the heaviest part of my cycle. The anticipation leading up to this event, concerns around COVID and the impending weather bomb had silently eaten away at me in the week leading up to race day. In hindsight, I realise that this had meant my pre-race fueling and rest had been less than adequate and for that I certainly paid the price – doh!
It was already raining during the first few kilometres and I could see large dark clouds in front of us blocking the mountains from view. We found ourselves passing through the Bannockburn Sluicings, which are a result of a short lived gold-mining era having permanently scarred the landscape in a dramatic expression which oozes Wild West. It offered easy gradients on non-technical terrain, a perfect and picturesque warm up section.
Then it was onto nipple hill, a fairly civilised ascent of around 240m vert gain which led into a technical and punchy downhill section. I love technical trails, especially ones that push my physical limits and I was thankful that this one required so much concentration as it took my mind off my low energy body.
At the first aid station we were offered fluid and nutrition then quickly ushered towards our first big climb. It was seriously steep and gave no grace to those who tried to scramble up it. I dug my poles in to try to haul my way up but for the most part they were more of a hindrance than a help. Finally, with two dead legs, burning lungs and more than a few matagouri scratches I got to the top of the hill. Relief!
At this point I reached the snowline and as I moved along the track which traverses around the face of the mountain I was plunged into falling snow. In front and all around me was a thick, white, heavy, cloud refusing to allow sight of the surrounding landscape. Underneath my feet were inches of thick, still settling snow. The footprints in front of me were already losing their sharp edges as the snow fell, rounding them off in an attempt to erase all evidence of prior human passage. Mother Nature was claiming her mountains back, it was wild and raw and I felt exhilaration at being out there in such untamed weather.
This was by far my favourite part of the race and I noticed the snow settle on my shoulders and the folds of my jacket as I ran. Snowflakes played with my eyelashes and melted on my cheeks. It was becoming clear that the race organisers would not be able to allow us to the higher elevations of the course. I felt disappointment knowing that I would not achieve here what I had wanted this time round but acceptance that this was mountain weather and fighting these conditions is not only futile, but dangerous.
Soon enough I was on a 4WD track heading towards a marshall who informed me that the 44 km competitors were all being switched to the 25 km course. Never in this race’s history had this ever needed to happen, which shows just how bad it really was out there, considering its a winter event for a reason, Terry Davis likes to offer drama, and drama was what we got!
From here, with a different mindset, I ran along the ridge, where gradually the ground became rocky, wet and green once again before descending down another very technical section. Rocky is an understatement and one thing is for sure, there was no room for error. I shuffled and scrambled my way down, aiming to retain the integrity of my skeleton rather than worry about my speed. The shorter distance meant that I had no cut offs to make, it was homeward bound back up and over nipple hill and then back through the sluicings and vineyard towards the finish line.
My heavy body never did find its flow that day, a culmination from lack of sleep and proper fueling and the stress that had led up to the event. Giving up was never an option though and I was pretty stoked to get over that finish line to receive my competitors medal. Medals themselves don’t usually excite me, I’m there for the experience, but this one has a particularly badass feel to it so I will file it away with the rest of the collection with pride.
On the other side of the finish line, after a quick chat with some fellow competitors, I hopped back in the car to make a quick dash for home a full 24 hours earlier than planned. Once again I was trying to beat the worst of the storm through the mountain range passes and I carefully drove my way on ever changing roads as the snow fell. Luckily I never had to put the snow chain lesson to use, but it still made for an interesting end to the day. Turns out that I got through with only a couple of hours to spare as the passes shut behind me, the storm well and truly swallowing the mountains, letting loose its wrath.
Mount Difficulty Ascent made me realise that there is so much more adventure to trail running races than just race day itself. The training, preparation and journey to the start line all count. Every single event challenges me and asks, “how bad do you really want it?” This time round I didn’t get it all right, and I may have actually died inside if the whole course had been open that day. But I have no regrets as I still enjoyed so much of the process and learnt so much from taking part. Mt Difficulty Ascent 44 km remains on my list as a race yet to be conquered!
(SIDE NOTE: At no point before or during this race was I worried for my safety. We were prepared well and I went into the race feeling comfortable with the conditions and trusted the judgement of the organisers completely. There were marshals placed regularly around the course and for the most part it was just bitterly cold and raining. Nothing that most trail runners haven’t dealt with before.)
Useful links:
Find out more and enter Mt Difficulty Ascent here:
https://mtdifficultyascent.com/
