Sweat drips into my eyes, as I stand at the top of Torc Mountain looking out at the breath-taking 360 degree vista of the Killarney National Park. The deep blue lake far below me is abuzz with canoeists, while the traffic-free road which encircles the lake is a blaze of colour, as cyclists, bedecked in a multitude of bright cycling tops, speed around the shore-side road.
It’s not just the stunning view which has taken my breath away, it’s the fact that I’ve run to the top Torc Mountain – well tried to run anyway. But I can’t linger; I’ve no time to waste admiring the view, a landscape I’d normally absorb over a slow relaxing picnic lunch, happy in the knowledge that I’d reached the day’s summit goal. No, I’ve still got to run back down the mountainside, then leap on my bike for a second time and sprint to the finish line. I’m in a race after all, and while the only thing I’m really racing is the clock and my inner determination to do my best, I’ll be darned if anyone is going to overtake me on the way back down, as many had on the way up!
It had all started with a seemingly innocuous phone call: “Pete; fancy a little jolly to Ireland and the wonderful Killarney National Park?”
As with many things in life there is always a catch, and this time it was the small matter of an adventure race. But not one to be put off by a challenge I agreed, and thus set in motion a few months training – which was basically short sharp bike rides followed straight after by a run through the local farmer’s fields. In doing this, I discovered muscles I never knew I had, as they ached their way from a squashed compacted bike ride into a stretched out rough trail run. Not owning a canoe, I thought I’d let that part of the race take care of itself.
Killarney is a delightful town of around 14,000 people, and as with all Irish places, it has a welcoming social side to it, with a multitude of fine restaurants and what seems like a disproportionately large number of pubs compared to its population. But what really makes Killarney stand apart is its location, as it is nestled within the brilliantly named McGillycuddy’s Reeks, the highest mountain range in Ireland, and is adjacent to the beautiful Killarney Lakes, all of which have National Park status.
I flew into Cork, and arrived in Killarney late Friday afternoon to a buzz of excitement as the final preparations to the start line outside the excellent Gleneagle Hotel were being finished. I headed over to the registration area, which had a carnival type feel – everyone chatting away in the registration queue among sponsorship flags, pop up bike and food shops, and a large Helly Hansen tent; all within view of the mountains we’d pass through the following day.
On yer bike
As race days go, the start to mine is relatively relaxed. I’m only tackling the least of the three race distances on offer – 30km – so I have a 10am start, a luxury that is not afforded to those tackling the longer 60 and 70km distances. But this is when I make my first adventure race error, by taking a short ride around town to limber up, only to get back to the start line and find that all the available bike racks are overflowing.
The ‘Le Mans’ start means you have to cross the start line on foot, then run a short distance to your bike before setting off on the race proper, so I wedge my bike between a couple of expensive looking road models, and make my way to the start.
To a huge cheer and a horn blast we set off… only to cross the start line in a surprisingly civilised manner, as one at a time we register our time keeping computer chipped wristbands. But removing my bike from the rack is anything but civilised, and I set a toppling domino effect in motion. Ignoring the commotion I’ve caused I quickly pedal away, too scared to look back at the tangle of chains and pedals I must have left behind!
The first part of the race is through truly stunning scenery, and I’m managing to actually enjoy my wooded lakeside surroundings as I ride around Muckross Lake on a rolling, hard-packed path, which is usually used by tourist horse drawn carts, which tour the park from Killarney town.
All aboard…
Reaching the first transition stage, I place my bike well away from any others this time, and bleep in with my timer, before I set off to find the lakeside canoes. The canoes are two people ‘sit-on-tops’ so I team up with the first person I spot looking alone. Establishing my new team-mate has never canoed before, I put him in the front and push the canoe through the shallow water before leaping on the back.
It is lovely, although tiring; being on the water, and with hindsight was probably the best time for taking in my surroundings. While focusing on keeping straight and in time with the other paddler, I could still afford myself some stolen moments to look up at the mountains, from a vantage point only gained by taking to the water.
The 1.5km canoe over, I set off on the most arduous part of the race – an 8km return run to the top of Torc Mountain. It is at this point that I realise my second adventure race mistake. My shoes, being Gore-Tex lined, are full of water that’s refusing to drain out. I have to stop, frantically empty them, all the while losing valuable time in my race against the clock, but the alternative is running with extremely uncomfortable, heavy and noisy shoes.
Final run... or walk
Pretty soon, I realise that there is no way I’m going to be able to run uphill, as all I’m doing by trying to run is expending valuable energy bouncing up and down almost on the spot. I change strategy to a brisk walk, promising myself that I’ll run all the way back down.
The Killarney National Park and surrounding area offers up numerous hiking routes, from a couple of hours to the 215km Kerry Way long distance trail, and an ascent of Torc Mountain would make for a lovely day hike.
The mountainside, as is much of the McGillycuddy’s Reeks, is boggy, and to stop erosion a series of railway sleepers covered in chicken wire leads to the summit. Which is fine if you’re hiking to the top, but tricky when racers are running both up and down as fast as they can. The narrow trail leads to me hugging my way past a lot of total strangers, especially on the descent, as I keep my self-made promise of running the whole way down.
Remounting my bike for the final push to the finish, I’m spurred on by the crowd lining the route, and one of the marshals who shouts, “Keep going man. You’re doing well. Only 1 km left!”
A shout which is repeated to me a further 1 km down the road…
Head down and pumping at the pedals I shout back, “That’s what he said 5 minutes back!” Which is greeted with much laughter and a reply: “Yes but he’s a liar and I’m telling the truth.”
Two hours and 25 minutes after setting off on a whirlwind tour of one of Europe’s most beautiful national parks, I’m standing in a hot tub barrel eating a chocolate bar, exhausted and yet elated at my 52nd place out of 500 racers. As the hot waters relax my tired muscles, I try to block out the nagging realisation that any serious athletes would have tackled the longer distances, and most of the 500 plus I’d raced against were happy just to finish. Which just goes to prove, that like most challenges, the only person most of us are racing is ourselves.
For information on next years race visit killarneyadventurerace.ie
