After wrapping up the EWS in Ireland, Traharn and I were beat.  We’d been going flat out for a couple weeks and needed a few days to chill.  Now when I say “Chill” I use the term loosely because for some it means kicking back, putting the feet up, and doing their best to make that ass print in the lawn furniture permanent… but for others, like Harn and I, not so much.  I get very few days at home and even fewer with Harn so if we have the chance to do everyday things like sleep in familiar bed, make a home cooked meal, see friends, ride/run familiar trail, and yes, from time to time lay around then we chalk it up under “Chilling”.  It doesn’t happen often but when it does you best soak it up because it never lasts long.

Point and Case… a couple days after we arrived back from Ireland, we headed North to the Lake District, shacked up in a 14th century manor, climbed a 1000 year old Oak tree that housed King Henry VI for a night, mingle with the few colourful locals, and ran England’s highest mountains including the rocky throne of Scafell Pike.  To be fair all this is not the sole result of  boredom. There’s a motive behind the madness.  Traharn has been training for an upcoming event called the “3 Peaks Yacht Race”, so her and I decided to spend a few days running the race routes and scrambling up everything in sight.  Through freezing rain, cloud, sheep shit, and rock, we ran.  Actually, since we’ve set the scene… who is building all these rock walls?! And bloody hell! How long did that take!  Great Wall of China, How about the Great Walls of Wales.  They’re everywhere! Look, it’s crazy!

Ok, enough walls, but you gotta agree, it’s wild right?

Alright so all this training was done a couple weeks ago, but right now it’s game time.   I’ve been too busy filming to get this post out, but Harn is actually mid-race right now.  Since the race is on, here’s the skinny… The 3 Peaks pairs a team of sailors with runners, throws them all on one boat and ship’s them off (literally) to run mountain marathons on the highest peaks in Wales, England, and Scotland each of which is linked by yacht race.  Just flat out racing for six days, eat, sleep, get tossed by the ocean, loose your lunch, and run…  makes for one wild endurance race.

I’ve been sitting here for the past 10 minutes trying to break the race into words, but lucky for you I’m failing so here’s the bullet point version …

3 Peaks Yacht Race by the Numbers:

Barmouth: Race Begins

– Teams board Boats, Drop sail, and Race kicks off with a mass start

– Boats race North 100KM to Caernarfon Harbour

Caernarfon:

– Runners jump off boat

– Ascend Snowdon (1085 m, highest mtn in Wales) via the Mountain Ranger Path (39 KM)

– Runners jump back on Boat, Sailors take over, race through Menai Strait and 160km to Whitehaven.

– Runners try to sleep and pack down as many calories as possible on a bouncing boat (not ideal), sea sickness a given

Whitehaven:

– Hit the Harbour, runner’s head off on a 87 KM roundtrip over Black Sail Pass (Awesome Name!) to the summit of Scafell Pike (974 m, highest mountain in England) (due to distance first portion of route is covered using bikes).

– Boat sets sail around the Mull of Kintyre, and up Jura Sound to Fort William Scotland, 365 ocean km away

– Meanwhile the runners once again, rest, eat, get sick, and try not fall overboard

Fort William:

– Tired and wretched from long distances and turbulent confines runner’s set out from the coast on their final leg

– Scramble the 1343m up Ben Nevis (Scotland’s Highest Peak), on a 31km track

– Cross Finish Line and proceed to past out to the tune of fanfare and applause.

_____________________________________________________________________________

3 Mountain Marathons+ 3 open sea yacht races= One Hell of an Experience!

Traharn ran for the “Sail4Cancer” team which was captained by none other than Dee Caffari.  Now you will learn, as I have,  that Dee is a not only a nautical superstar, but a kickass human being. Here’s a few ridiculous Caffari Facts…

– First women to sail single handedly around the world non-stop (with the wind and currents)

– First and only woman to have single handedly sailed non-stop around the world against prevailing winds and currents (just for kicks)

– Only woman to have sailed around the world non-stop a total of 3 times

It’s a little nerve racking seeing your girl ship off (that sounds cool to say), but when she’s under the watchful eye of someone as experienced as Dee, you relax a bit.  Traharn’s role in the race was run the final 2 marathons, and survive six days on the boat.  Over the course of the week, she lost her lunch, and one of her shoes, traveled a total of 118 mountainous KM on two legs, survived, pushed-through, and crossed the finish line in Fort William with the same bubbly smile she set off with.  And yes, she is a certified Badass!

The North Face just launched their new campaign #MaxYourDays and their video is something else.  Extremely clever.  Well Done Ladies and Gents!

My whole body bumped and the sultry sound of whining engines startled me from unconsciousness.  Rubbing blurred eyes and sleep sealed contacts, I looked around at the planes vibrating interior as a voice welcomed us to Ireland.  Only a few hours earlier Traharn and I had been on a London curb hailing a cab, and now we found ourselves in a different country.  This kind of hopscotching comes at a bit of a price.  Heavy with-drawls are often made from the sleep bank, and  this was no different.  2.5 hrs of collective sleep over 2 days. That being said the morning was a bit of a blur, we sleepily worked our way through customs, picked up the rental car, tipped our hats to Dublin, and headed for the Wicklow countryside.  Once we hit the road being tired took a back seat.  I mean hell, how can you stay groggy eye’d with a big o’l green stamp in the passport, a free pass to the birthplace of Guinness, and nothing but blue skies and sun?  And yes, you did read that correctly… Blue Skies and Sun.

Rant

Now, we’re in Ireland, and if I’m honest, this country has a bit of reputation.  I was expecting to weather the majority of this weekend at the pub with the old boys, downing pints and watching the puddles grow.  But this was not the case.  Instead, I watched my skin radiate pink.  It was then that I realized, Ireland is actually tropical paradise! What kind of national conspiracy have they been playing at?! There’s nothing but blue sky! Not a rain cloud to be found! How the hell have they been keeping this place under wraps?!  It’s lush and green, the riding is amazing, they have castles, and the people! The people of this fine country are as awesome as their accents!  They’re perpetually stoked!  If I’m honest, these are my kind of people!  Not only are they excited and cheery, but I’ve never met a population that embraces their pasty complexion as much as I.  I felt at home!  What a place!

End of Rant

Alright, back to the here and now, Why are we in Ireland?  Well Traharn was set to race the Irish leg of the Enduro World Series (EWS) and myself having just come off a film trip through Europe was ready to sit back and play the supporting role.  Up until this point our schedules had us burning the candle at both ends, which is obviously no way to prep for a world class competition but hey sometimes you gotta do, what you gotta do.

Once in Wicklow we pitched the tent and, Traharn moved straight into practice alongside her teammate and brother Joel.  Not one to idle by, I laced my trainers, packed my camera, and headed up the venue.  With my bike mechanically debilitated I looked at the next best option… put one foot in front of the other.  This became the weekend routine.  Traharn and Joel taking off to train/race and me following, camera in hand, scrambling between stages hoping to snag a worthy image of the action.  On all accounts it made for pretty wicked weekend.  I loved it!   I would run through the forest, find a track, set up a shot, pull the trigger, and boom, head off running again.  Keep in mind this is an Enduro Race where athletes race 7 different tracks over the course of the day.  So it kept me pretty busy.  I actually spent so much time ping-ponging the venue, riders started yelling “Hey Running Guy!” as I passed.

I trailed the Chidley contingent through practice and into… dahn dahn dahn, Race Day.  Now, I’m not a racer, never have been, so spending time chasing the tape was a new experience for me, even if it was on foot.  You might be wondering if watching some of the world’s best riders made me want to Race? … My answer is simply, No.  It made me want to ride my bike, but it definitely didn’t make me want to throw on a number plate and race the clock.  It’s just not how I’m wired, but for everyone in Ireland, racing their Jam! And I get it! Because the energy surrounding it is monumentally vibrant.  It was an awesome thing to witness, and as I learned, Nobody does it like Ireland!

By the time I waltzed my blistered feet aboard the ferry headed for England, Traharn had battled her way through sleep deprivation to an incredible top 20 finish amidst the world’s elite.  Joel was unfortunately dealt multiple punctures which took him out of the hunt, but he redeemed himself with an unparalleled performance of cooking an omelette over a burner perched atop the passenger seat of his van while driving aboard the ferry.  Who says men can’t multitask?

Ireland you’re a Beauty!

Last year I set out with Bruno Long and Liam Mullany in Revelstoke to build a sub 1 minute piece that captures the different aspects of a ride.  Normally I’d write my own little intro but Diamondback pretty much hit the nail on the head…

” There’s Beauty in every aspect of a mountain bike ride: the struggle, the discovery, the descent. Whether you’re into sightseeing, an adrenaline fix, or a mixture of both, there is always a reason to ride. ”

#FindYours

Well it rained, and when it rains in Dignes Les Bains you’re playground turns to a plenty of puddy.  After fruitless attempts to ride we headed for the hotel marking the end of my tour.  With a flight for London set to jet first thing in the morning it was time to scramble.  With 8+ hours of road ahead of us Hoshi (SR’s Marketing Manager) and I packed the car, and began our lengthy trek from Southern France to Fribourgh Germany.  Through farmland, canyons, and onto the German super highways at 230 km/h.  We made it to the Hotel at 4:30AM.  3.5 hrs later we were back in the car headed to the Whyex Studio to throw bikes in boxes.  This marking sub-4hr sleep number 1.

By 11 I was sitting in the French quarter of the Basel Airport, which has to one of the only airports with an actual border running through it.  Within a ten meter spread, you can buy a french pasty before waltzing into Swiss territory and purchasing a coffee at double the acceptable price.  Currency and coffee aside, I was groggy mess of a human.  The next thing I knew I was nodding my way to London.

“The awards start at seven, don’t be late.”  There I stood, staring at the physical definition of commotion… The London Tube at rush hour.  This place is fascinating!  The underbelly of commerce is a sight to be seen!  So many people, so many different agendas.  Suits, runners, doddelers, sweaters, grumpy, smiling, confused, and one particular wide eyed Canadian struck dumb with the overwhelming task of navigating this junkshow.  What a time to be Alive! haha

Time: 18:12

Ticket in hand I filed onto the launchpad of the Liverpool Station bound for Bank.  Commence Urban Safari!

Time: 18:25

Hustle further underground through Bank’s tiled tunnels to platforms headed for Waterloo.  Starting to get the feel of this tube business.  Load train.  Crammed.  So many suits. Someone farted.  Still awesome!

Time: 18:40

Outside Waterloo Station.  Need to find Rambert Dance Company.

Time: 18:44

Ask Cabby for directions..

Time: 18:48

Lost.

Time: 18:49

Head back to Station. Time’s ticking. Running!

Time: 18:51

Ask reception at some SouthBank Art academy. Good Intel. Running Faster!

Time: 18:56

Target aquired. Salvation!

Time: 18:59

In Coat Room. Waredrobe change. Sweating.

Time: 19:03

Enter the Woman Sports Trust Be A Game Changer Awards Ceremony

Time: 19:04

Trying not to sweat through my shirt I slipped into my seat next to my beautiful and unbelievably amazing girlfriend Traharn, steal a kiss, and settle in for a night of celebrating inspirational women from across the Globe.  South of France to London.  3 hours sleep. Made it!

The Woman’s Sport Trust is a leading UK charity focused on raising the visibility and increasing the impact of the women’s sport through the promotion of roll models, increased media coverage, and improved funding.  The #BeAGameChanger Awards is WST’s opportunity to recognize the individuals and organizations doing the most to progress women’s sport. There Traharn and I were in a star studded audience of olympians, movie stars, journalists, business folk, politicians, and activists on London’s South Bank drinking red wine and awaiting the nights final award…  “Imagery of the Year” for which Traharn’s film “I Am Endurance” has be nominated.

Earlier this year, Traharn worked closely with her sponsor SealSkinz to bring light to a dark chapter in her life.  The result, is a film that defines “Courage” and shows how sport can change ones path.  While her film played before the entranced audience I have never felt more proud of anyone in my life!   There we sat hand in hand as the room erupted in a standing ovation.  It was surreal!

To the vocal dismay of myself and the audience the award went to an absent ADIDAS with Traharn in the runner up position.  But what happened next reminded us all that awards don’t make the winner.  Traharn had told her story, touched the hearts of us all, and lit the wick to a social media firestorm that went (in the most polite terms possible) “rather unfavourably” for ADIDAS.  She is a true inspiration!

The evening then escalated, as she was called on stage for the evenings final Q&A, promptly followed by cameras, interviews, the whole nine yards.  It was an awesome sight. Post show we snagged a beer with Iain and Wendy who worked behind the scenes to make her film happen.  Then it was back to the Hotel for all of 3 hrs of sleep (this is becoming a trend) before snagging a taxi to airport.  Keeping it Pinned!  More to come from the land of Guinness… Ireland!