Transvulcania 2014 – Going Bananas on Isla de la Palma

 

Transvulcania 2014 – Going Bananas on Isla de la Palma. 73Km / 4415m of climbing.

Report by Giles Hawking

Sometime last year I saw a youtube video of an Ultra-marathon race that looked amazing . The film’s images of runners streaming up a hill in the dark, headtorches glowing like a sinous river of twinkling lights, the sun rising above the Atlantic at dawn, the rays of light filtering through the trees,immense and spectacular scenary, the determination of the runners and the passion of the supporters told me this would be something special that I needed to do.

Here is the video of the 2013 race:

Reading about the race and it’s immense challenge did not serve to put me off, and on my 40^th birthday in August last year I took the plunge and entered the race (what mid-life crisis). I have done an ultra before (Swissalpine several times), but this promised to be further, hotter, worse under-foot and have a lot more climbing. It would take place in a sub-tropical paradise though.

The Transvulcania race takes place on the Isla de la Palma, the most Westerly of the Canary Islands. Starting at the Southern tip of the island the race follows the GR131 walking route North up and over the volcanoes, craters, and mountains of the islands spine, partially circles around the massive Caldera at the islands heart, tops out above the clouds and amongst the observatories of Rogue de las Muchachos, then plummets through forest and down crazy zig-zagging cliff edge paths to the beach, and there is a final climb back inland to the finish at Los Llanos for good measure.

The race is 73 km’s long, starts 10 metres above sea level, gets as high as 2426m’s, returns to 4m’s above sea level and finishes at 340m’s above the sea. Constantly going up and down the race has a culmulative climb of 4415m’s, that’s 14,484 feet, three and a bit Ben Nevis’s or four and a bit Scafell’s, and you don’t climb those from sea level. Total climb and descent of 8525 metres.

After three flights I arrived on the island on the Wednesday, plenty of time before the race on the Saturday.

On the Thursday I watched the Vertical kilometre race, a time trial from the beach at Puerto Tazocorte up the crazy cliff path, through the banana plantations and onto the high ridge line to an altitude of 1160 metres at the finish at El Time Turret, a distance of 6.6km. I watched from a bit above the half way point amongst a hoard of enthusiastic supporters . The atmosphere was something like that of a Tour de France stage, everyone excited for an early glimpse of some of the ultra trail running superstar talent that was congregating on the island for the big event. Previous winner Killian Jornet was competing, and ladies victor in 2012 Anna Frost made my day as she made small talk with me as she ran to spectate further up the hill.

Friday was spent at the expo near the airport collecting my number, then back to base near Tazacorte. I relaxed at a beach side bar, an evening meal of pizza and several colas was perhaps not the best idea, but I had been eating pasta at every opportunity for three days.
Off to bed early as I would have to set my alarm for 2am to catch the 3am coach to the start at the far end of the island. The alarm going off at 2am was no hardship as I was wide awake from all the caffeine, excited like a small child at Christmas, this was it my date with destiny.
Converging on the Bus Station in the dead of night with my fellow runners I was relieved that all my plans to get to this point had come to fruition, I was going to be on the start line but would I cross the finish line?

After an hours journey along crazy roads and through strangely active little villages, we headed down towards the start at the lighthouse of Fuencaliente. Disembarking the coach my excitement was quickly blasted away by the gusting wind coming in off the ocean and the lacerating sand it contained.
It was a surreal scene, sand blowing across like waves of rain, runners huddling where they could, pitch black except for the moth like glows of headtorches , forming lines of light as runners began to assemble near the start, and above on the clifftop Guardia Civil and Police cars giving an eery light show with their flashing blue and yellow lights.

I spent the next hour and a half regretting my late decision to remove my inov8 jacket from my pack, why would I need that I had reasoned , it will be scorching, not at 3am by the sea it won’t be.
After huddling with my new running compatriots for an age behind the walls aroung the base of the lighthouse we were called to form up behind the start line.

The excitement was now palpable and some Queen (We Will Rock You) and AC-DC (Thunderstruck)blaring from the p.a  got the amassed runners into a hand clapping frenzy.
A chanted countdown, and we were off and running, but only for 5 metres. The lane up from the start was not that wide and this was rush hour . As it was 6am and pitch black with sand blowing across us it was hard to see much, I think we were running up sand dunes or lava flows, the path was narrow and congested, the surface loose and the first mile took 25 minutes. The second mile was not much quicker as we climbed the black sandy surface away from the lighthouse, only able to run sporadically I was worried that I was miles back in the field and I was relieved to look over my shoulder and see the long procession of head torch lights behind me.

I had a quick chat with an English couple I had seen at the expo, we agreed that there would be plenty of time for running later.
Eventually we came out onto a more well made track, the runners had spread out a bit and I was able to break into some more constant running. Away from the coast the wind had lessened in intensity but I could still see a fine haze of dust picked out in the beam of my headtorch and my throat was being agitated by the fine particles. Over the black sand and rock and through the dark I ventured on.

As the dark began to subside a noise in the distance was beginning to grow.
We ran onto a bit of road and into the village of Los Canarios (distance 7.4km / alt 709m) , and I was astounded, blown away!
It was 7.30am and the whole village was lining the long main street, an early morning fiesta, the atmosphere was like a carnival.
Beyond the village we were back into the wilderness, dawn was coming and the head torches were no longer needed. We wove up through pine forests, the ground still black , gritty and absorbing our energy as our feet slipped back on the loose surface.
However the sun had by now risen above the Atlantic, it’s golden rays of light were streaming through the trees, and we were high enough to look down on the clouds banked up way below by the coast. I was living the dream but would it turn into a nightmare?

On we went , mile after mile, always climbing, the ground becoming gradually more solid underfoot, the trees bigger and more numerous, the ground littered with pine cones and the panorama ever widening.

Los Deseadeas was our early high point altitude wise , hitting 1931 meters after 18km’s. We then descended for a while, rueing the loss of hard earned altitude.
In deep forest at Área Recreativa El Pilar ( 26.8km / alt 1456m) there was a major feed station and the finish of the Half Marathon that had run alongside us to this point, so the area was thronged with supporters and another party was in full swing. At this stage I was 844^th and had been on the move for 4 hours and 7 minutes.

After El Pilar there was a decided easing of the difficulty level , we ran on a well made forestry track , the gradient barely discernable. This of course would not last , we made our way onto the rim of the Taburiente Crater for the long journey around to the Roque de Los Muchachos.
Way down below to our left we could see the coast and a little inland Los Llanos where we would hopefully finish, we would be going the long way around though.

 

The Roque de Los Muchachos was like the never appearing promised land, it held the hope of no more climbing and the ease of allowing gravity to waft me downhill . Climbing to heights this boy from Yorkshire can barely comprehend and with no familiarity of the course led me to have a number of false dawns, 10 or 15 times I thought I was there only to have my hopes dashed.
By now we were constantly above 2000 metres, the air was thinner, we were way above the tree line so had no protection from the intensifying sun. I was starting to overheat, feeling nauseus and where was the bloomin’ Roque.

A couple of aid stations brought temporary relief, cool water and some shade lowered my bodies  thermometer , I felt good for a while, and ran along with a couple more Brits, the conversation a good distraction, but the heat could not be escaped for long.
Sighting the shiny silver observatories along the rim I new I must be getting near, just two more false dawns and I was pretty sure I was at the base of the climb to my nemesis Muchachos. I was also at my lowest point so far, my head was pounding , a few drops left in my bottle, super warm and sickly iso drink in my camel back. The aid station high atop the Roque looked impossibly far away and I was in imminent danger of keeling over.

I sheltered under a scrappy bush at the base of the climb for a while,eventually succumbed to the nauseau and threw up a purple plume of energy drink. Feeling a bit better I staggered on , I didn’t get too far before I felt worse again. 10 minutes in the shade of a rock face got my temp down and I was off again. Finally staggering into the Roque de Los Muchachos drink station not long after 4 pm, time since start 10 hours and 4 minutes, and I had slipped back to 1003^rd, although that was the least of my worries. I took my time , got the fluids topped back up, ate some fruit and sheltered in the shade of the marquee. I wanted to be in good condition for what I imagined was going to be a joyous uninterupted descent down to the sea, from where I would crawl to the finish if I had to.

 

I emerged from the tent to see a man was dispensing water out of a large jug over the overheated heads of my fellow runners, two spine tingling doses of that , a quick photo opportunity and I was off.

My friend Muchachos proved to be as hard to get away from as he was to get to. There was no immediate plunge towards the shimmering sea, I would have to persevere along the rim a bit further. We went down a bit, then back up, shade was non existant and the ferocity of the sun was relentless. Not before long my head was spinning again , even the eventual drop into the thin cover of the trees did not offer much release from the oppressive heat. I was yo – yoing , staggering about, then feeling better, getting into my stride and flying past every one, then being overcome again and relinquishing all the places I had won.
Eventually it was too much and I had to have a sit down under the shade of a tree. I was now really considering quitting, I was definitely at my lowest point. Runners going past would show there concern and offer me water, get going they would say, the next drink station is only 3k’s, you can do it , but I just wanted to be left alone, heartening as their concern was.
Although it had seemed like an age since I had departed the Roque, from my vantage point I could see I was still thousands of feet above the valley floor, the sea looked an impossible distance away.

Not feeling much better I decided I had better stagger on to the drink station and quit the race. Thankfully as I stumbled feebly along the path a purple plume of salvation erupted from my mouth, another for good measure and I was raring to go. I was back in the race.

The descent was never ending , I like running downhill but this was ridiculous, Los Llanos over to my left continued to look like a satellite image for ages, the only bit of the descent I knew , the middle of the Vertical Kilometre was failing to make an appearance, it got to the point where I thought we must be taking a different route, there must be some mistake. There wasn’t, this was just MASSIVE.
Finally onto familiar ground, I was starting to make back my lost places , but my dream of finishing under 12 hours could not be recovered. Across the main road and down beyond the Restaurant El Time, I was now on pavement for a while , straight down through the Banana plantations, gradient perhaps 1 in 3. Feeling better and better I was flying passed the others, their bruised legs an d cramping muscles  protesting in agony with every step, many were just walking, downhill ! A few recognised me, shouted encouragement, surprised that the corpse they had seen higher up the hill had been revived.

Windmilling with my arms and letting gravity aid me along this was now too easy. I was now approaching the cliff path down to the beach, 400 metres below. Viewed from the beach it is almost impossible to imagine that a path could go up/down the precipitous cliff.

 

Uneven stones, loose surface and sharp bends safely negotiated I was onto the promenade before I knew it, amongst what remained of the crowds and running passed the outdoor tables of the beach side restaurants, their patrons having a more relaxing but less memorable day than me. I grabbed a bottle of Powerade at the drink station and embarked on the last leg of this epic race. I had now been going for 13 hours and 20 minutes, covered 68 km’s , and made up over 70 places on the long descent to be in 870^th.

 

Gravity appeared to not have been the only thing keeping me going as I turned off the promenade onto the beach and then turned inland along the dried up river bed. I was still feeling pretty good, the group I was now with were walking so I did to, conserving some energy for the 5km’s and near 350 metres of climb seperating me from the finish.
The further we went up the river bed the narrower and deeper it became, it there were to be a flash flood we would be in trouble, but little chance of that. A runner slowly catching us from behind and the very strange and annoying throat clearing noises of one of the group I was in, spurred me into action, as we left the river bed and headed up steep switchback paths through the banana plantations I began to run where I could.

Soon I was running up into the town and onto the long boulevard that dissects Los Llanos, closing down the distance on the few runners ahead of me I made some more places up , encouraged by the infectious enthusiasm of the supporters and their shouts of ‘animo’ (I encourage/courage?) and ‘vamos’ (come on ) that I had heard all day.

It was late in the evening, the winner went by seven hours ago but there was still a large number of enthusiastic people thronging the road side, turning off the boulevard we had just a couple of short streets to navigate before the barriered two hundred metre’s of red carpet that lined the way to the finish. The crowds were getting bigger and louder, childrens arms were held out on either side to receive a high five, I was feeling like a superstar as I ran up the avenue , arms out hand slapping my way towards and across the finish line.

Across the finish line

So that was it, I had done it, 14 hours 9 minutes and 52 seconds, from the beach I had made up another 39 places to finish in 882^nd of 1721 who started. Runners would continue crossing the finish line for several more hours, by the timing cut of time of midnight (18 hours!) nearly 1500 had completed the arduous challenge.
I felt a bit too healthy at the finish but many were battered and bruised , bandaged legs or hobbling with feet shredded by the sharp sand and rock ,had spent time on an IV or had massage for cramp. Anyone who finished or was nuts enough to toe the starting line had had an unforgettable life enhancing day.

The race was won in 6:55:41 by Luiz Alberto Hernando, previous winner Killian Jornet was 6 minutes behind and previous winner Sage Canaday third.
Anna Frost after a year out from injury made a triumphant return to be leading Lady in 8:10:41 and 22^nd overall, the hoped for duel with Emelie Forsberg failed to materialise as she cut her hand badly falling on a sharp rock early in the race and was taken to hospital.

I will be back.

 

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