Old Ghost Ultra Begins
It’s 5:55 am and I am on the start line for Old Ghost Ultra (OGU) after a build-up of 18 months. Finally, I was here. It hadn’t been easy getting to this point, COVID had been the first obstacle after 2022’s event needed to be cancelled. Then I had a resurgence of epilepsy, followed by an unhappy Glute Medius, mental health challenges, an unplanned house move, and the death of our two beloved dogs. It was safe to say that the previous twelve months had been a wild ride. Therefore, this race was symbolic of a new start, proof to myself that I would not allow epilepsy to beat me.
85 kilometres had seemed such an impossible distance and the prospect of trying to complete it with no option of bailing once I started had been the cause for many sleepless nights. But now that I was surrounded by so many other people who also seemed to think it was a good idea, I was as certain as I could be that I would run, walk or crawl across that finish line by the end of the day.
Since I had arrived at the start point amidst all the other competitors on the bus from Westport I had been immersed in the hustle and bustle as we all took turns queuing for the portaloos, organising packs and drop bags, and getting in last-minute nutrition before we began.
And then, before I knew it we were all huddled in front of the start line, 300 head torches lighting the path before us, and loudly counting down the final few seconds. The air horn sounded and we shuffled across the start line, cheering and whooping as we went. Here we go, I thought, as I was herded by the crowds towards the beautiful trails of the Old Ghost Road.
Finding A Rhythm at the Old Ghost Ultra
I settled into a slow and easy-feeling pace and found myself a spot in the pack, somewhere mid to back of the line, as we took on the narrower tracks along the Mokihinui gorge in single file. There was plenty of chatter going on up and down the line, pumped with adrenaline and basking in the promise of a great day. The weather was perfect, with no rain or wind, blue skies, and around 18 degrees. I could not have asked for better conditions.
I reached Specimen Point Hut, 17 km in, with plenty of time to spare before the 8:45 am cut-off time, feeling strong. It was one of four cut-off times I needed to meet for the day and I breathed a sigh of relief to have ticked the first one off. I bounced into the aid station high on life and feeling amazing, better than I had in months.
Cut off times, menstruation, and luxury, composting toilets
Feeling the pressure of the next cut-off time at 1 pm at Stern Valley Hut, I transitioned through this first aid station as swiftly as I could. Although, a stop at the loos was necessary to manage my period which had decided to grace me with its presence a few days earlier.
As a side note, I will mention that the toilets along this route are not the usual drop toilets or portaloos that we runners are used to frequenting on race days. Instead there are (almost) luxury compostable toilets which are spacious, clean, and smell only of sawdust. Of course, as with any toilet situation on this terrain, I had made plans to carry out my non-compostable waste but this is relatively time-consuming and I was impatient to get going again.
Ladies if you are reading this, feel free to hit me up about how I manage menstruation whilst out in the bush. For you Gents reading this, please take a moment to appreciate what your female counterparts have to put up with.
After Specimen Point Hut there is a long section that winds its way through the west coast New Zealand bush, it’s stunning and makes for lovely running as the ground is soft and bouncy beneath the feet. For a predominantly rocky and hard-packed trail, this section is dreamy. Although tree roots and stray rocks are prone to jumping out at you, as I was soon to find out.
A fall threatens it all
As I ran through this section my toe caught one of these stray rocks and sent me flying through the air, superman style with arms outstretched in front. In a bid to save myself the humiliation of taking down the runner in front of me, I twisted in the air and landed on my right-hand side with one arm above my head with a heavy thump. Doof!
On the ground, I did a quick check of the body. Sore in a few places but initially it seemed that all but my ego had got away with it. I began running again reassuring those around me that I was fine but secretly hoping the pain in my shoulder wasn’t around to stay. At least it wasn’t my legs. A shoulder I could deal with.
I put the pain to the back of my mind, the running endorphins doing their job and making it manageable. I was having so much fun the pain wasn’t enough to bring me down.
Soon enough it was time to tackle the first grunty climb of the day which took me to the top of The Boneyard where I had Earnest Valley beneath me, stretching into the distance, the trail visible below weaving along the valley floor.
Running down the switchbacks of The Boneyard was so much fun and a nice break after the big uphill climb. There was a moment of gratitude for the person who had advised me to add specific downhill training into my training schedule, although I couldn’t remember who that particular angel was. If you are planning on this race, I highly recommend you do this, it makes for a much nicer and significantly less painful experience.
The kilometres ticked by and Stern Valley Hut aid station was now fast approaching and I was relieved to see that I was way ahead of the schedule I thought I would be on. I’d comfortably clear the next cut-off time at 1 pm. Phew!
Half way there
On arrival at Stern Valley Hut, the halfway point, I was immediately buoyed by the party atmosphere; stories were being exchanged, shoes switched, drop bags emptied, and feet rested. It was a hive of activity and I almost didn’t want to leave, it would have been easy to get way too comfortable here.
As I took off my pack, pain went shooting through my shoulder and down my arm reminding me of my earlier fall. Taking my pack on and off would need to be kept to a minimum from here on in.
As I left Stern Valley Hut I braced myself for the next 13 kilometres which would be almost entirely uphill. It’s a brutal section, made even harder by the 42 kilometres the legs had already endured and the pressure of the cut-off time at Ghost Lake Hut at 4:30 pm. I prepared myself to dig deep and set my mindset and intention of just one foot in front of the other.
Steps, Ridgelines and Old Ghost Hut
The section in between Stern Valley and Ghost Lake Hut includes the notorious skyline steps, a 60m tall staircase with 200 unevenly distributed stairs that leads to The Skyline Ridge and on to the hut itself. Its known by runners, walkers and bikers alike that it’s a leg killer but I actually found the steps easier and more efficient than my slow step by step trudge. The steps actually offered a welcome change in movement patterns which was physically taxing but mentally rewarding as you gain elevation relatively quickly.
Up the stairs I trudged, counting sets of 20 to make them pass quickly. Soon enough they were done and more uphill followed on rocky terrain as I began my way along the ridge taking in the breathtaking 360° views and marveling at boulders the size of cars I was passing along the way.
I executed a quick jump shot pose for the photographer positioned at the top who laughed and told me I would regret that later. He was probably right but the pictures he took made it totally worth it. They are evident of the fun time I was having, claiming my life back one kilometre at a time.
As I continued along the ridge Old Ghost Hut came into view, perched high on the mountainside in front of me with the switchbacks leading to it in full view, and a ball of dread contorted in my stomach. Not allowing this to overwhelm me I looked back to the trail directly in front of me allowing myself only to think of the present and not of what was to come; after all the best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.
The point of certainty at Old Ghost hut
After what felt like an endless uphill section, where I could not have overtaken a tortoise, I passed Old Ghost Lake and finally reached Old Ghost Hut, once again well within the cutoff time. The relief bought with it a flood of endorphins, this was the point where I knew with certainty I could complete this beast. I was so happy and despite being tired I knew I had plenty more left to give.
Amazingly, the race crew had an internet connection at Old Ghost Hut and were live-feeding competitors coming through the aid station on Facebook live. My friends spotted me and wrote words of encouragement which the race crew read out to me. Knowing they had been watching ‘Old Ghost Ultra TV’ and were still rooting for me gave me even more of a boost and I left the hut looking forward to seeing them at the finish line!
A mission to the finish line
One more uphill section followed after the hut which looks innocuous when viewed from afar. But after 50-odd kilometres, it feels anything but innocuous. My endorphin-filled body quickly became endorphin depleted as I continued my trudge to the highest point of the course.
I passed Heaven’s door which laid out the West Coast mountains before me, framing them in all their beautiful glory. I took the obligatory photo but couldn’t stop for long. I was on a finish line-bound mission.
Finally, the highest point of the course came and went, taking me to the last 25 km stretch which I had been assured was all downhill. I was so ready to embrace that downhill and off I went, hell-bent on getting this done.
It felt so good after so many hours of uphill to have a change of pace and I allowed the legs to take over and do their thing. I was amazed I still had anything left in them at all, my body was proving that it was capable of so much more than I had given it credit for.
The track dropped back into the forest once again and seemed to go on and on. The switchbacks were endless and hard on the body as with each one required me to brake in order to get my tired legs round the corners.
These last 25 kilometres were most definitely not all downhill as I had been promised. It wasn’t exactly uphill either but undulated between the two in the most soul-destroying of ways. Progress was far slower than I would have liked.
By Lyell Hut my legs were toast and to make matters worse, thanks to my useful but annoying uterus, I had no choice but to trudge the short but steep path off the main track to the toilets once again. It felt like a cruel state of affairs and took way more effort than it should have done. But soon enough, toilet stop was complete and I was on my way once again with just 18 kilometres to go.
The forest is beautiful on this part of the track but its flora and fauna are mostly unchanging which is a sharp contrast to the ever-changing track in the first 60 kilometres of the race.
Boredom began to set in and stupidly I allowed myself to think of the end and the mental battle began. My brain split in two with one trying to convince the other to walk. It took all of my willpower to keep the walk breaks short and maintain some form of run as much as possible.
Finally. The finish line!
Finally, the kilometre markers showed I was only 10 kilometres from the end. I used these as counters and forced myself to run between each one no matter how much my brain told me to walk. I’m not convinced that mu running pace was much quicker than my walking pace would have been at this point, but its the effort that counts right?
5 km, 4 km, 3, km, 2 km, and then like a beacon of light the 1 km marker appeared in front of me. My legs like lead, I urged them on assuring them it was almost over.
I could hear the spectators whooping in the distance now, celebrating as their loved ones crossed the finish line. I surged ahead until I crossed the last footbridge of the day and bounced up the small set of steps with surprising frivolity, crossing the finish line to be greeted by my friend’s smiling faces. It had been one of my best racing experiences I had ever had. The camaraderie and friendliness I had felt throughout the day made it more than just a race, it was a life experience, and one which I was determined to come back and do again one day.
Old Ghost Ultra aftermath
Soon after finishing, I removed my pack to change into a fresh shirt, and hilarity ensued when I found myself painfully stuck, awkwardly entangled within the body of the top as it was confirmed that my shoulder was far more painful than I had realised. But for now, I didn’t care and was simply grateful I had friends to help get me out of the undignified position, stuck inside my own sweat-soaked shirt, in which I now found myself. Ultra is many things but glamorous is certainly not one of them.
It was hard to believe that my body had allowed me to complete this race, I had built a new love and respect for it over the 85k as I had peeled back more layers on how far it could take me.
Finishing Old Ghost Ultra was a strange feeling after such a long and emotional journey to get there. It came with a mix of relief, satisfaction, and happiness with a twinge of sadness that it was all over. I had learned so much about myself, not just on race day but throughout the training process too. Getting to the start line had certainly not been easy. But then who said ultra should be easy anyway?
Find out more and Enter here:
http://www.oldghostultra.com/
