Sri Chinmoy have been running the Jindabyne Multisport Classic for five years. I’m surprised that it has failed to generate a bigger following in that time. Ever since supporting a friend in the second year of the race, it has held a fascination for me that has been hard to shake. This is despite the fact that it involves three significant swimming legs, and at the time of my introduction to the race, I couldn’t swim more than 250 m.
Three years later, I was on the start line on a chilly Sunday morning. I had spent the night listening to the wind and rain squalls and watching lightning through the curtains of Jindy Inn, wondering whether we would be allowed out on the lake in such foul weather. The morning turned out to be fairly settled, although the wind was already threatening to pick up. The eight solo athletes (including 1 female) took to the water 15 minutes ahead of the teams. As the swimmers ploughed into the water, my first thought was; “Shit; there’s 12 hours of this ahead of us. What’s the rush?” The initial rush of the soloists was nothing compared to the speed with which the team swimmers came past me about 20 minutes later.
Exiting the water 30 minutes and 1500 minutes later, my sister was introduced to the world of the support crew. She was a novice at crewing and was nervous, despite the detailed transition notes we had developed to take her step by step through everything I needed and in what order at each of the 11 transitions. The nerves at the start line paled into insignificance when she didn’t push my boat out far enough into the lake and the rudder stuck in the mud. As we freed it and I took a stroke the boat swung around 90 degrees, convincing me that the rudder had broken and my race was over. Some choice words were uttered and darling sister was sent for the tool box. As she returned I had freed the rudder and was paddling off. It wasn’t the best start to the race, I’d lost time and a number of places.
The first 9km paddle was straight forward, downwind and with a building chop made for a fast time, even better when you can jump on the wash of a behemoth on a spec ski. Lesson number one of the day, was to get a wire in my camel bak so you don’t have to stop paddling to drink, as soon as you do you lose the wash. Soon enough another behemoth came along and a congo line line formed. No more drinking until I bottomed out on a bar coming into the inlet. Then it was a sprint to the next TA anyway.
Overcoming any misgivings from the previous TA we had a lightning TA and came out onto the run in 4th place. The 7 km run started off easily enough on a concrete bike path, but quickly left that for obscure single tracks and bush bashing. I’m sure the track was well marked, but being color blind meant I couldn’t see the pink track markers unless they were fluttering in the breeze. I had to let the solo female overtake me so I could follow her. Despite this I still managed the 2nd fastest solo run for the day.
I was looking forward to the first 9 km MTB, which was advertised as; “Not for anyone without excellent MTB skills”. As I jumped on the bike Janet called out; “Just follow the orange tape” I inwardly groaned, orange was even worse than pink. Luckily the track was distinct and I had no trouble finding it. It was easy, wherever there were more rocks than anywhere else that was where the track was. As I was riding along at about 5 km an hr picking my way over the rocks I was wishing I could meet the guy who cut this off camber technical nightmare into the hillside. It took me around 40 minutes to complete the 9km course, but it was great riding and great fun. Especially the final gully, where the guy after me launched his bike, scattered the spectators and landed on a parked car, busting his ribs in the process.
2500m swim; my nemesis. I had actually raced reasonably conservatively, knowing that I had only swum this distance a handful of times before. The first 500m went along alright, but as a rounded the first bouy and started off down wind, I lost all rhythm, felt my legs dragging in the water and quickly reverted to breast stroke. I’d recently read Des Renford’s book on marathon swimming and learned that the first guy to swim the English Channel had done it breast stroke, so if he could swim 40km then I could do this swim no matter how long it took. I must have got sick of people asking me if I was about to drown, because at the bottom marker, with a bit less than a km to swim I went back to freestyle and finished the swim off. 1hr 20 min is a long time to swim 2 ½ kms and I had fallen back to 6th place.
The good thing about swimming that slow is you don’t use up a lot of energy and back in the boat I switched out of preservation mode and back into race mode. The next paddle was only 5 ½ km straight into a freshening breeze. Boat selection proved to be an important strategy. Many paddlers had already been picked up by the rescue boats, having not been able to handle the wind chop. Others had stayed close to the shore, while I was able to head straight across the bay, making up one place. The other important strategy was to actually know where you were going, the paddle legs were not marked particularly well, and the only way I pinpointed the TA was to watch the MTB’s riding along the shore and head for where I could first see them coming out from behind a headland.
From the boat it was time to give the upper body a rest and jump onto the MTB for a quick 11 km blast through open farm land. The course was relatively flat and the greatest challenge was for the support crews to get the boat packed up and to get to the next TA before me.
The most challenging run stage followed the MTB. It was a 12 km run along rocky single track which climbed up a gully for around 9 kms before turning around climbing a ridge line and then descending to a picnic ground before a final climb up to the TA. It is the first time the course leaves the lake and enters the Kosciusko National Park. As soon as you leave the lake you enter the eucalypt forest. While the climbing was starting to take a heavy toll on the quads, the change in scenery makes a welcome change. Despite walking some of the steeper sections I was able to pass a couple of other soloists, and arrived at the TA in fourth place.
The longest ride of the day was a 40km tour around the north western corner of the lake. It started with a steady 6 to 8 km climb (depending on who you listen to) climbing 500m up into the snow fields. The gradient was a manageable, being under 10% most of the way, although the head wind through the pass almost had me back in granny gear. The descent on the bitumen then hard packed gravel was fast and freezing; by the time I hit the bottom my hands were cold enough to prevent me shifting up into the big ring. This proved unnecessary as you are almost immediately faced with the second climb of the day. It is a much harder gravel climb, the first half of which can be done in the middle ring; just, the second half is down into granny and a winch up the hill. The best thing about this ride, is that once you’re over the top there is about 15 km of sweet downhill, complete with water bar jumps, sweeping curves and sharp gullies. The course setting sadists are not far away and after you exit the forest into open farm land you seem to approach the lake at least 5 times before you actually get to descend down to the TA.
The end of the race is tantalizingly close as you enter the water for the final 1.4km swim. I was seriously nervous about this leg as it was 3 years ago that I saw the athlete I was supporting crippled by cramps, and needing to hang off the kayak repeatedly as I paddled along beside him. My quads were pretty juiced and my hamstrings were tight, but I had been sucking down the Torq electrolyte all day and there was no indication of the onset of cramping, so with more than a little trepidation I set off. My nervousness was unnecessary as I quickly got into a rhythm, and slowly but surely stroked my way round the course. I was navigationally challenged at times, and did appreciate the rescue boat which followed me, thanks to the insistence of my support crew. 40 minutes later I crawled from the water thankful to be taking off my wetsuit for the last time.
As I jumped into my boat for the penultimate satge, a final 9.5kms paddle across the lake towards Jindabyne, Janet called out; “just paddle to a marker, then to another one, cross the bay then head into a little inlet that you probably won’t be able to see.” Another groan, and a prayer that there will be someone to follow. I knew the inlet was going to be hard to spot, but I had recollections from the last time I was here and I had semi committed the map to memory. Still feeling strong I headed off to cross the lake for the last time. Frustratingly, my prayers weren’t answered, there was no one to follow and not even a rescue boat to ask directions. I had to stop with about 3 kms to go and try and decipher the landmarks I had committed to memory. The idea of heading for the final marker was fruitless; there were buoys all over the lake, and no sign of curiosity rocks, which I was meant to be heading. There were lots of low lying rocks, but none in the direction I felt I should have been heading for. Another paddler eventually came up to me and we quickly discussed the best option. As it turned out after progressing another 1500m, I recognized the rocks I was meant to be heading for and was able to head directly for the TA, the navigation issues probably cost me another 15 minutes.
The final run is an easy, flat 5.5 km into town along the shore of the lake on a concrete bike path; that is if anything is easy after a race like this. Getting out of the car back at the accommodation was challenging enough. Finally I crossed the line having held onto fourth place for the last half of the race. The last 4 hours seemed to fly by, I’m not sure whether it was because I was in a daze, or whether because I was enjoying myself so much, but before I knew it I was crossing the line to the half hearted clapping of half a dozen Sri Chinmoy volunteers. My support crew only made it to the line in time to watch me inhale one of the delicious veggie burgers that were on offer.
Having completed the race, I am even more surprised that more people don’t take up the challenge. It is a good fun race, which is constantly changing and keeping you on your toes. The shorter legs are a great format that ensures the racing never becomes a grind and motivates you to keep charging the whole time. Yes, being a good swimmer is a big advantage, but I proved that it’s not essential to being able to complete the event. The country side is stunning, the MTBing is fun and the paddling is fast for the better paddlers and yet achievable for beginners.
A big thanks to Janet, my official support crew ( you were totally awesome, and were as professional as any athlete could ever wish for), Lizzie, my unofficial crew, who is typical of the great people you meet at these events. Having met at the start line, she was just as supportive, encouraging and helpful as any long suffering support crew would have been, Gen and the crew at Torq, I am constantly amazed at what you can achieve on these products. I got around the course in around 12 ½ hrs, almost exclusively on liquid carbs and gels, I never felt flat, never felt close to cramping, and was able to move freely the day after. Del my Keen Torqer team mate who taught me to swim, and finally to my long suffering family who have to put up with the time away from them; training and racing, the mysterious debits from the bank accounts for gear and race entries, the mindless banter about all things outdoorie and yet continue to be supportive of nearly all of the crazy things I do and still want to do.
