AN OLD GIRL’S EXPERIENCE OF THE 2021 INAUGURAL SIMPSON DESERT ULTRA

AN OLD GIRL’S EXPERIENCE OF THE 2021 INAUGURAL SIMPSON DESERT ULTRA

Kate Dzienis • Jun 30, 2021

Contributed by Julie Steele, AURA Member

Simpson Desert Ultra (Inaugural) 100km, 5 June 2021, Bridsville Qld

Well, that was an epic adventure and one that I will cherish for life. My husband Bruce and I were privileged to have an opportunity to participate in the inaugural Simpson Desert Ultra (SDU), organised by the ever-smiling and energetic Birdsville legend Jenna Brook. So in our distinctive ‘Bear Grylls’ (aka Bear Rentals) 4WD, off to Birdsville we started, heading for our 26-day outback adventure.

The SDU course consisted of four 25km loops (West, North, East and South), which branched out like flower petals off a central race hub, all located on Jenna’s family cattle station about 30km west of Birdsville. This arrangement provided runners with the chance to participate in one of four race distances: 25km, 50km, 75km and 100km. Each loop had a fully stocked checkpoint at around 12.5km from the loop start and two other emergency checkpoints with water, medical kits and emergency supplies.

The race hub was party central. Music was constantly belting out, and there was a massive variety of munchies for the participants (including Tim Tams and a fridge full of ginger ale and Coke). There was also a comprehensive medical team, raging fire pits and freshly cooked food to keep spectators warm, toilet tents and plenty of space to set up camp for the night for those lucky to have an opportunity to sleep. The central hub allowed spectators to be fully immersed in the event because participants were continually entering the area, all needing to be spurred on by the clanging of cowbells and words of encouragement, especially by the manic MC. Each runner had to check out of and into the race hub every loop so the crew could account for everyone, leaving no one wandering the desert aimlessly into the night. In such harsh and isolated country, the organisers took safety extremely seriously.

A unique but challenging twist to SDU was that participants had to choose their own start time. You calculated this time based on trying to complete your race distance before 2pm on Sunday and leaving the race hub to start the final loop before 10am (cut off point). No runner was allowed to leave the race hub and start the last South loop until 6am on Sunday for safety reasons and to ensure all runners, irrespective of distance, could savour that final loop together.

Because this was the inaugural event, there were no previous times to consider making the start time decision extremely difficult. After much anguish, I took race director Jenna’s advice to back myself and start at 8pm on Saturday, hoping I had given myself plenty of time to complete each loop but without having to wait at the race hub at 6am, and risk seizing up before starting that final loop. Selecting an appropriate start time was the undoing of many faster runners because everyone, including me, underestimated just how tough this course was and how long it would take to complete each 25km loop. Thank goodness, with Bruce’s advice, I made a last-minute decision to start 30 minutes earlier at 7.30pm.

Put simply, the terrain was brutal. Each loop consisted of typical outback desert landscapes. This included flat claypans punctuated with random cattle hoof imprints and knee-deep holes that claimed the legs of many runners. There were notorious vast gibber plains comprised of thousands of ancient volcanic rounded red rocks designed to roll unsuspecting ankles. And that sand – endless dunes composed of fine red sand that kept giving way under your feet, providing a precarious and unstable surface; no compacted sand out here.

Traversing along the tops of those dunes, especially in the depths of night with the wind whistling across the peaks and navigating around the unexpectedly dense vegetation (due to recent heavy rains) was relentless. We were rewarded though with absolutely stunning outback desert vistas. The vegetation included waist-high spinifex and prickle bushes on steroids that were sharp enough to rip through the toughest sand gaiters! I was relieved to have brought shin guards to protect my legs. One poor runner tripped backwards after catching her foot in a claypan hole, only to fall bum first into a prickle bush – ouch! Although the course profile only specifies about 800m of elevation, the amount of climbing up those dunes seemed endless as you would slip downward with every step, needing to repeatedly clamber up again. One advantage of the terrain was that I didn’t suffer any delayed muscle soreness post run because the only downhill sections were descending the dunes, which involved slipping and sliding rather than running.

Most of the course was held on a cattle station on unmarked terrain with no defined trails or pathways, so we had to navigate the course by strictly following markers. Despite the markers being meticulously constructed and located, the reflective tabs unfortunately had a habit of turning sideways with the wind. Identifying markers during the night was challenging! I had to backtrack numerous times, jiggling my headlamp in the hope of catching a glimpse of a reflection to confirm I was still on track. Some poor souls added countless kilometres to their journey in search of those elusive markers.

Because the race is held in such remote country, participants in the longer distances had to carry substantial mandatory gear including a radio (no phone reception out in the desert) and wear a high vis vest with a red flashing light attached to the back of their packs. My upper trap muscles were screaming by the end of the event after carrying the load for so long. A strong headlamp that could illuminate the course markers and endure the night was essential. I was so thankful for also wearing a waist light, which clearly highlighted the claypan holes and larger gibber rocks. So many participants continually smashed their toes against unexpected obstacles throughout the event.

Before starting I tried having an afternoon nap to prepare for a sleepless night ahead but to no avail. At least it was a mild night with little wind, not bitterly cold as I had anticipated. I started my adventure at 7.30pm with two other women, Row and Sandi, but we each settled into our own pace within the first few hundred metres. I ran the first loop predominantly by myself in the pitch black with very little light offered by a new moon. Instead, I was kept company by a blanket of brilliant stars and tiny native mice that scurried between my feet, startled by the headlamp light. The iridescent glow of pairs of green spider eyes lit by my headlamp and weaving across the sandy surface was mesmerising. Although I could hear distant dingo howls, they kept their distance. Running alone for so long was initially a little daunting, but I soon realised how privileged I was to be able to savour the solitude of the desert. The image of a single star shooting across the desert sky is etched in my mind forever. I was relieved however, to find Checkpoint 1, manned by the most amazing volunteers, confirming I was on the right track (although I swear the checkpoint was further than 12.5km). Surprisingly I ran the first loop much to plan and came into the central hub with comments that I looked ‘fresh’. I was also encouraged by whispers that the West loop was technically the hardest and with the least runnable sections – the rest would be relatively ‘easy’. Not sure easy is a term anyone should use when describing the unforgiving SDU course though!

I started the North loop relatively strongly, having found a rhythm to navigate the gibbers and claypan holes. Typical of a 100km event, things started to go astray on that second loop with my legs refusing to do much more than a shuffle, usually a brisk walk, on the soft sand, especially when traversing those never-ending dunes. Around 50km into the run I experienced a dreaded but familiar ‘ITB niggle’ in my right knee. Despite being momentarily mortified that this could signify my race end, I stubbornly refused to accept this fate. After performing a few stretches, then striding out into a brisk walk and cursing my knee, I changed my gait to a much shorter stride length, begging my legs to please, please, please co-operate.

Surprisingly it worked. I was able to keep shuffling across the firmer surfaces although my legs refused to run along the softer sand when traversing those relentless dunes. I realised very quickly that this was going to be a long night and much, much longer than the 16 hours I had anticipated! It was nice to be joined by some of the 75km runners who started on the North loop. I seemed to consistently play ‘catch up’ with one runner, Ben, who would surge ahead, power walking along the softer sand, although I would catch up to him again by on the firmer gibber plains.

Although fresh, many of the new runners still had to become accustomed to the marker placements and often ran off in random directions, so I decided to trust my own navigation. I had also found a rhythm across those gibbers that seemed to avoid any toe stubbing. Although Loop 2 was much slower than expected, encouraged by the hub spectators, I donned a fleece before heading out on the East loop, knowing that this would be the coolest part of the night as we approached dawn. Bruce had already started his 50km run on the East loop at 2am so I wouldn’t be joining him on the trail this event. Loop 3 also took longer than anticipated, and I was now concerned I might not make the 2pm Sunday deadline.

Coming into the race hub from Loop 3 just before 9am the ever-smiling Jenna greeted me. I was now really concerned I was at risk of missing the 2pm deadline. Jenna, however, dismissed my fears telling me to high tail it out onto that final loop and just do it. So I ripped off my sweaty merino shirt, fleece and buff, replacing them with a Seacliff Coasters singlet, cap and sunscreen; refilled my bottles, did a quick but necessary toilet stop and bolted out of the race hub, dumping pre-race plans for a peaceful transition or a shoe change. Thankfully, the final South loop was relatively ‘kinder’ from a technical perspective, although still included those never-ending dune traverses and gibber plains. Heat from the beating sun now replaced the night-time coolness. The moaning of enormous cattle, who sounded annoyed that we had disturbed the tranquillity of their morning, replaced the dingo howls. The swarms of flies had become so thick that, after swallowing a couple I donned that essential fly net, not wanting to consume anymore ‘protein’. The soft sand on the ‘road’ that rolled over dunes of ever-increasing size towards the Checkpoint 4 was mind-numbing.

Peaking over the top of each ascent, I could swear I saw that elusive checkpoint time and time again, only to realise it was just another clump of trees. When I made it to the actual checkpoint tents and tables, I was extremely relieved. I can’t thank the Checkpoint 4 volunteers enough for their spectacular encouragement and that greatly appreciated cup of tea and quick sit in the shade, which gave me a much-needed final boost to finish this epic adventure. I spent a little too much time at that last station although it was time cherished to refuel and refocus.

Monitoring the time closely, I now realised I had to run as much of those final 12.5km as possible, irrespective of my leg’s reluctance to more than shuffle across the soft sand. Sauntering was not an option. My fear of stepping on a snake in the heat of the day helped spur me forward. Continuous encouragement from other participants, many of who had started nearly 24 hours earlier, also motivated me to keep moving across that penultimate expansive gibber plain. After scrambling up that final sand dune down and excitedly sighting the race hub, I crossed the finish line to clanging cowbells at 1.58pm – a mere 2 minutes to spare before that dreaded 2pm deadline.

I have never felt so emotional at seeing a finish line, being greeted with a huge hug, firstly from Bruce and then Jenna. Bruce had successfully powered his way through the 50km event in a speedy 8:10:00, despite his headlight crashing in the first 100m – thank goodness for his backup waist light, although he found marker spotting a huge challenge. I had fought extremely hard for this 100km finish (my watch recorded 105km so I am claiming that extra 5km), constantly motivated by the message Jenna had written inside the cover of a Dr Seuss book (Oh, The Places You’ll Go) that every 100km entrant received at registration.

I gave the task of selecting the unique finishers mug, hand painted by Aulpunda Jean Barr Crombie, a local Wangkangurru Yarluyandi elder, to Bruce because my mind was now less than functional. Such a unique and stunning race memento that will be proudly displayed at home!

As an indication of just how tough SDU is, of the 41 starters in the 100km event, only 12 completed the entire distance and only 6 of those finished before 2pm. Although SDU is much more about the challenge and adventure than winning, I was shocked to find I had shuffled my way to 2nd fastest time overall, despite being much slower than anticipated (18:26:00).

Stubbornness, not speed, is my strength although I will sacrifice two toenails on each foot to the run. The ever-smiling Mindy Durdin took the 100km win in 16:21:00. She floated past me while traversing a loop 2 dune, making it look effortless while she espoused continuous words of encouragement. SDU 2021 was one for the women!

There are so many stories and lessons learned I could describe about this epic adventure (a cup of tea directly after ginger ale at race end will not end well) but this report is already too long.

If you are looking for an adventure to challenge you both mentally and physically, I strongly recommend you consider experiencing SDU yourself. An enormous thanks must go to Jenna and her team of passionate volunteers who worked tirelessly in the lead up to and during this unique event.

SDU was impeccably organised. Jenna’s attention to detail was meticulous – I have never seen a race director care so openly for every participant. A special thanks must also go to the Brook family for allowing us to traverse their expansive Adria Station and to Connor for his sincere welcome to Wangkangurru Yarluyandi country. Thank you to the amazing volunteers, including the young family members of many participants, who worked throughout the night at the race hub and checkpoints to ensure we were well fuelled and able to keep moving forward. To the medical staff, the course makers and markers, the central hub crew, the tent erection and dismantling teams, the incredibly supportive spectators and everyone else involved in this magical event – thank you.

Importantly, to every participant who stepped over that start line in an attempt to find your limits, especially those who were so encouraging while we traversed those relentless dunes and plains together – thank you all for making this an adventure that this ‘old girl’ will cherish for a lifetime. And for those who didn’t make it the whole way – remember, 2022 will be the year for unfinished business!

Pictured: Julie Steele racing in the 2021 inaugural Simpson Desert Ultra. Photographs – Supplied. 

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