Ultra Fiord pre-race interview with 100mile favourite - Joe Grant

Ultra Fiord in Chilean Patagonia is less than 2 months away. Invited Ultra Fiord athlete Joe Grant, fresh from the ravages of the multi-day 'Coastal Challenge' in Costa Rica took a break from charging through rivers to share some thoughts about ultramarathon running and the challenges ahead with his next big trip down to Patagonia.  Here's what he had to say:

(También puedes leer este artículo en espagnol en el sitio web muy informativo: TrailChile) 

Q) You write a lot about running as a being a necessary ritual as much for your mind as for your body. Aside from physically, in what other ways does running bring you well being?

Joe

It's really a holistic practice. Running is for me a way to explore places under my own power and provides a very direct engagement with the natural world. This isn't always the case, but I tend to get better clarity in my relationship to the land around me when I run. Running in the mountains forces me to pay attention to my surroundings, whether it's focusing on my footing on a technical trail, observing the weather and changes in conditions or adapting to the seasons. It's a very complex activity for how seemingly simple it is.  

Q) Have you got any tips about how to best make time for yourself to go running? 

Joe
I run a lot by myself, or with just one other person. I like to take pictures on the run, but other than this I leave the distractions of technology at home. I do really value this time alone and it provides a nice balance to the rest of my life that is much more socially engaged.  

Q) Many of the races you enter such as the Iditarod and the Tour De Geants seem to be on the hard adventure end of the ultra running spectrum. What is that draws you to these type of events, where you are out for so long and so far from home?

Joe 

Ian Corless. All rights reservedCredit ©iancorless.com
more photos at iancorless.photoshelter.com

The biggest draw for me is curiosity to see how my body and mind will fare in trying conditions and places. In both examples, for the ITI and the Tor, I'm drawn to the aesthetic of the course. The ITI is a point-to-point race with a long history. The Tor makes a great loop around the entire Aosta Valley. The distance or difficulty aren't really what draw me to these events, but rather the aesthetics. If the Tor was 160 miles or 400 miles, it would still be appealing as it's just a beautiful, logical loop. 

Q) Ultra Fiord will be the third fully supported 100mile race in South America. (The others being the Atacama Extreme and NF Endurance Challenge). All three of these take place in Chile. With such strong growth in the sport here, how do Chilean people know when it is the right time for them to step up to the longer distances and when to hold back and gain more experience?

Joe

That's a tough question. A lot of it depends on your background, experience and what you want to get out of an event like this. My first official ultra was a 100k in Oregon. It was close to home, looked like a fun event and I had a lot of experience with long distance backpacking and cycling so the distance didn't intimidate me.

If you're coming into ultras from a straight running background, it's probably best to move up in distance little by little. If you already have an endurance background in adventure racing or long distance hiking or biking, your approach could be a little different. It's really just specific to the person. 

Q) For many people in Chile this will be their first time running the 100mile distance. You seem open to the idea that suffering is part of the ultra experience. If this is so, but we still hope to enjoy the experience, what do we need to do to 'suffer well'?

Joe
I don't really like to use the word suffering that much in the context of running ultras, at least not for myself. Real suffering is not something you can do well. Running can be a way to process some deeper issues, but the act of running itself is elective and not something imposed on us. Feeling physical pain or discomfort is inevitable in a long race and dealing with that can be best managed with good preparation. Getting some long runs in before the race will prepare you physically, but also mentally to be comfortable being out on the trail for many hours. It's possible even in discomfort to enjoy the experience.  

Q) What are your thoughts about the route of the race, the scenery you are to pass through and how this will affect your experience?

Joe
From the photos and videos I've seen, it looks like an amazing course. It's wild and remote and the beauty of the course is definitely one of the main draws for me. A good course can really help keep the mind engaged after hours of running and enhance the experience.   

Thanks very much Joe. Looking forward to seeing you in Puerto Natales and very best of luck for the race!

Futangue Challenge 60km, Chile - 3rd place - Full Report

I'm in bed with a Latin man. It's about 3:30am and he is sitting bolt upright and making strange popping noises with his chewing gum, whilst staring fixedly ahead.

I sit up and join him and a rush of stars comes past the window, as we take a big sweeping curve around the edge of Lago Ranco. The taxi comes back into focus, and I let the chair flick back up from its reclined position from where I had been sleeping.

An hour or so later I'm standing in front of a log fire in an old barn. It's desperately dark still and I'm rubbing Vaseline over myself and staring deep into the fire's embers. There is a call to the start line, a briefing about a stray vicious dog that we will encounter before the night is over; then headlamps on - and we are off.

Km 10

We are racing through a deep, rutted riverbed. Several competitors seem to have run out of battery already, and are running in the mangled shadows of those whose head torches are still working. We patter across a stream - keen to keep our feet dry for the remaining 50km still to be run.

Km20

First light throws up an impossible childlike sketch of a top-heavy mountain. Its vertiginous parallel sides transform from a fantastical outline to an undeniable solidness, as the contrast grows between lake, and rock and sky. I round on a beach and tip-toe the quickest route through a litter of loose stone and driftwood.

Km30

The damp mulch of many a millennia in Parque Futange is soft underfoot. The gradient is steep but demandingly runnable and the heat of the day arrives as I climb up through the cloud cover.

KM38

I'm piling downhill as quick as I can - back towards the clouds. An ocean of these puffy whitecaps seems to stretch out in front of me - cutting the mountains tops off - marooning them like suspended islands on a stormy sea. The sky is then momentarily thrown up in front of me; reflected in a lake that appears through the silver tress.

Km45

I use the entire contents of a water bottle to clear the vaseline and suncream out of my eyes; showering myself on the climb, as I cool myself down. A doctor at the next aid station, mistaking this for wild caucasian perspiration, thrusts my index finger into a machine and shouts some numbers back to me - before giving me the thumbs up. I launch into the next downhill, careering with wild arms, and fast feet through the knotted trails of virgin forest.

Km 55

Above the clouds again, on the top of Cerro Mayo, I have only 5km of steep descent to complete but I'm confused by the effort and the beauty of it all and spend a few minutes spinning around, tripping over my feet, swimming in the spectacle of it all. I get the camera working and eventually begin the descent.






Km60

I cross the line in third, taking a moment to adjust to no longer needing to squeeze energy out of my legs and breath into my lungs, for the first time in 6 and a half hours. I congratulate Enzo Ferrari and Cesar Montoya (right) on their joint first place, and wait for my friend Rene to cross the line before we embrace each other for the sweatiest of hugs.

There is beer on tap and the cloud begins to break up. The afternoon stretches out; limbs tighten up. The heightened sensation of purpose, and singular concentration, begins to dilute in the noise of the crowd and barbecue smoke and then, slowly ebbs away altogether.

Ultra Fiord Update!

Ambassadors and Notable Runners for Ultra Fiord 2015 Revealed

• 70% of to-date race field originates outside of Chile, the event’s host country.
• 11 ambassadors from five countries chosen for inaugural edition.
• Registered runners to represent 17 countries around the world.

The registration and selection process for Ultra Fiord’s inaugural edition, which will take place from April 16th to April 18th 2015, has continued to progress, obtaining interest from trail-runners around the world; 70% of the currently registered runners reside outside of Chile, the event’s native country. Being that Ultra Fiord is an international trail-running event, 11 runners, originating from five different countries, have been chosen as the ambassadors for this year’s edition.

Enzo Ferrari, one of Chile’s strongest trail-runners, will represent the event’s home country in the longest event, the 100-mile distance, which will span over the course of two days. Sofi Cantilo and Gustavo Reyes, who also will both run the 100-mile distance, will serve as representatives of Chile’s neighboring country, Argentina. Brazil will also be present for the event, as Manuela Vilaseca will compete in the 70K distance, while Fernando Nazário will look to join the 100K competition. The ambassadors are not only limited to South America, however, as Federica Boifava of Italy and Genís Zapater of Spain will represent Europe in the 100-mile distance. Last, but not least, the United States will round out the diverse group of ambassadors by seeing four runners join the inaugural edition, three of whom, Joe Grant, Nikki Kimball, and Krissy Moehl, will be joining Ferrari, Cantilo, and Reyes for the two-day running of the 100-mile distance, and Brittany Dick, who will compete in the 100K distance.  In addition to these five countries, at least thirteen more will be represented this coming April.

The race’s diversity, however, is not strictly limited to the ambassadors, as other notable runners have registered to explore the forgotten secret of Chilean Patagonia: it’s numerous and wide-ranging fjords. These runners include, but are not limited to: Candice Burt, Nicholas Barraza, Jeff Browning, Matthew Maynard, Kerrie Adair Bruxvoort, and Billy Barnett, all of whom, with the exception of Billy Barnett, who will run the 100K, are coming from the United States to run in the 100-miles. Finally Veronica Bravo from Chile will compete in the 100-miles.

A fjord is usually defined as a long, deep outlet of water in the shape of a U, which is created by the coming and going of the glaciers, and stretches to the inland by rock on either side. Southern Chilean Patagonia has accumulated thousands of kilometers of fjords, many of which are unknown by these differing classifications, making Ultra Fiord 2015 a mystic journey to discovering the magical world of fjords.

Through the event, its coordinators seek to promote tourism within the region, contributing value to these patrimonial territories and encouraging sustainable development in the local communities. “We wanted to develop a race that would not only look to expose these mysterious waterways,” said race director, Stjepan Pavivic, “but go beyond that by adding sustainable development and conservation to the region to ensure the world of Chilean fjords and its local communities retain both their beauty and innocence.”

Registration for the event will remain open until 7th of March of 2015, which can be completed online in Ultra Fiord’s official website:

English: http://www.ultrafiord.com/registration

Spanish: http://www.ultrafiord.com/es/registration

Futangue Challenge - 3rd

This weekend I had the great pleasure of racing with some of the big boys of trail running in Chile: Cesar Montoya and Enzo Ferrari. The climax of the day was on Cerro Mayo when we emerged above the clouds onto a seemingly floating mountain top, amidst the virgin forest.

Enzo and Cesar finished together, some 8 minutes ahead of me. Fantastic race, brilliantly organised - highly recommended.

A sense of home

It can take a long time to feel at home.

I moved house again recently and it has thrown me off my rhythm. The smooth edges of familiar living have been roughed up, and the pieces have all been shuffled. This being my 10th house in as many years though, means this is not too strange a feeling, and I have some strategies for starting to patch it together again.

Like a dog eager to inspect his new territory, I got out and had more of a look around this week. It’s funny how learning how a new house sits in relation to the curves and the undulations of the landscape, helps you come to terms with your sense of self in an unfamiliar place. 

Drawing in my new surroundings and appreciating where I live, seems to be an integral part of the creation of my own happiness. Whilst travelling a day’s journey from my front door, the beauty, or lack of it that I find, becomes a reflection on how I feel about myself. The action of surveying, and the feeling of coming to know a place as I cover ground on foot gives shape and substance to who I am: If I don’t like what I see, I find it difficult to be at peace with myself when I return. Perhaps this makes me as much a function of my surroundings, as I am of the mind and body I presume to take with me each time I move to these new places.

So what is it I am looking for?

At dusk on Tuesday I made my way quickly onto the greying flanks of Mount Pochoco.  In the previous weeks I had been out, teasing open the rabbit runs a bit more on this side of the mountain and trying to open a passable route through the cactus and fledging eucalyptus to the summit some 3,000’ above. The early eager shoots of spring that I had found knotted across the trail, had now died back. The hot summer sun and the passing of my feet pushing them into retreat. With my back to the city below and the gradient steep, it was not long before I could just concentrate on drawing regular lungfuls of breath; my feet skipping with increasing familiarity over the warm rocks and loose dirt.

The route follows a strong line up a defined ridge, but I had left occasional small piles of rocks to guide me in the less obvious places, and it pleased me now to turn a corner and see one, and know that I had passed here before. Higher on the mountain, when the sun had not yet set, my shadow caught up with me for a short time and ran ahead through the boulders and loose scree and dry grass, before tiring and falling back once again. 

On the summit plateau, even the serious mountains had settled down into the obscurity of night;  the last gasps of day dissolved into their snowy flanks. I stood there for a while, in the dark, to mark the end of the day. The moon was not yet up and the ground that rolled away from me on all sides shortly disappeared too. Then came the cool air pouring down from the Andes, and infront of me, on the earth, an inverted skyscape of city lights from Santiago.

On Thursday, I wanted to try and find a new way onto the the power line trail that contours along the other side of the valley from our new home. It is very runnable, and affords good views up to the ski area and down to the river, interspersed with sections that draw you deeply into the armpits of more minor valleys, allowing you to concentrate on what is close and more immediate. 

If there is an alternative way to go somewhere, I always like to try and tease it out; even if it only a very minor deviation; even if is longer and less convenient. I like the variety. The only way I knew to the trailhead was through the official entrance to Ñilhue Park. There is a small fee, and whilst I am not against helping keep this private land open to the public, I still find it a little grating to pay for the privilege of travelling under my own steam in the outdoors. Crossing the river, I passed the park entrance and tracked along the road until I found a boulder choked canyon that looked promising. It was not really runnable in an uphill direction - too steep and technical - but I grunted my way up it, stopping at one point to bridge up a deep slot where a short waterfall must have once cascaded. 

I made it up to the pylons eventually and stood there, looking up at the trail that I could contour easily along and begin to close the loop back home. The temperature was well into the 90s now. The air was very still and heavy, and the dust I had kicked up from the canyon hanged around as if in suspension. My water bottles were nearly dry and made a weak gasping sound as they adjusted themselves to the new thinner air.

I kicked again into higher continuation of the canyon and continued climbing, leaving the original plan of following the trail behind. I felt drawn to explore further up the mountain. The dry river bed was slightly more forgiving now; just on the limit of what I felt I could run in this heat. I think I passed an old stone sheep pen but I can’t be sure: my sunglasses were misted and all focus was reserved for the task of picking the trailing foot up before the front one touched the ground.

I stopped at a level area and noticed that a new sound besides my breathing and footsteps had interrupted my rhythm. There was a whispering noise coming from an invisible line stretched out in front of me, close to the ground. 

At 5,000’ I found a shallow water catchment that seems to skirt the entire flank of El Naranjo Mountain.  It runs every so slightly downhill and is drawn off at intervals as it passes above farmsteads to provide fresh running water. A greater variety of notably more mature trees grow along its length. Small mammals retreat here into the shade, during the heat of the day, and an abundance of birds flitter among the nests built into the trees. The closeness to this moving body of water, in the midst of that thick, hard scorched day, immediately made me feel light again, and tread easily. I turned to run along it, drawing in the knowledge of the waterway in the mountains that encloses my new home.