Trioba Adventure Sprint Race

Just got back from Port Gamble, Washington, on the northern tip of the Klitsap Peninsula, sandwiched between Bainbridge Island and the Olympic Peninsula, where Russ Gober, Renee Seker and I united our adventure racing skills for the Trioba Sprint race.

Due to busy schedules and logistical challenges, (Russ lives on the far west side in Forest Grove and raises a son and a couple step-children with his wife Noel. Renee works almost full-time while raising twin boys and her husband Mark. I live on the east side and travel for work four days a week and maintain a heavy recreation schedule.), we trained together exactly once in the months leading up to this race--a mountain bike ride out on the Syncline trails a couple months ago. So we were feeling highly unified and prepared...

An adventure race typically involves hauling every piece of outdoor equipment you own, plus some you borrowed and an expensive specialty item required and purchased just for this race, along with same for teammates, to some remote location where you are issued maps and checkpoint locations, sometimes plotted on the maps, other times in the form of latitude/longitude coordinates you have to plot yourself. You spend the next several hours/days seeking out these elusive checkpoints in the company of your hopefully well chosen teammates in all kinds of conditions--heat, damp cold, mud, thick brush, etc. The fastest team to gain all the checkpoints wins, with time penalties for things like missing items from the mandatory gear list, checkpoints out of sequence, traveling on prohibited routes, and straying more than a certain distance from teammates.



Russ and Renee picked me up around 3:30 pm, a dreadful time for Friday afternoon traffic exiting the Portland metro area. I added my mountain bike, gear bin and duffel bag to the Toyota van already loaded with two kayaks, two bikes, and Russ's and Renee's gear bins. By 4:00 we were sitting in traffic waiting to get on the freeway and by 6:30 were having dinner at Olive Garden in Olympia.

Sufficiently stuffed with pasta, bread, salad and wine, we finished the drive across the Tacoma Narrows bridge and up to Poulsbo where we had a hotel reservation. Alarms set for 6, we settled in for what we hoped would be a good night's sleep, Russ in one bed, Renee and I in the other. Adventure racing teammates always bunk together, whether in a hotel or trailside for a mid-race nap!

Russ's cricket alarm sounded first and we starting moving. We got breakfast in the hotel lobby, made coffee, and did some last minute gear sorting before heading to the race start for check-in. Here we made a near-fatal mistake. We turned right out of the hotel and headed south and east instead of north to Port Gamble. When we started across the bridge to Bainbridge Island, I knew something wasn't right. Our once leisurely check-in process would now be rushed. We got back on track, but arrived 20 minutes late and had to scramble to stage kayaks at the beach launch, bikes at the appropriate transition, and study maps and organize our gear bins and packs with the right equipment for each section of the race.

Duly briefed at the pre-race meeting, it was time to start! The first section was a prologue of unknown discipline. Prior to arriving at the start line, we only knew that we needed a writing instrument. When the whistle blew, we had to sprint about 100 yards and receive a clue sheet from a race volunteer. The clue sheet directed us around historic Port Gamble in search of answers: what year was the cemetery established? what items were NOT sold in the mercantile? When we turned in our completed sheets, we could proceed to the paddling section.

We ran down the trail to the beach about mid-pack, but since we were late staging our boats we hadn't adjusted foot pegs and seats. By the time we finally launched into the Port Gamble inlet, Russ and Renee in the tandem, me solo, only one boat remained on the beach. Considering we paddled exactly zero times in the last year, we were pleased with our kayak leg. We passed several teams and easily gained the four mandatory CPs, but chose to skip the optional one that would have added considerable distance and time, potentially putting us in jeopardy for finishing in the allotted time.



Back at the beach, we carried boats up to the parking lot then ran back to the start area to transition to the ride and tie section. This typically means that four teammates have two bikes and alternate between riding and running. For the three of us, we had only one bike and had to decide how to use it strategically. We were allowed to separate for this section, so Renee went ahead on the bike to the first CP where she would drop it and start running. Russ and I ran together, then he took the bike to the second CP, down a gravel road, then up a muddy trail to a spring. I continued running to the transition area where we all reunited with our bikes.

This was my first race as team navigator and so far there hadn't been much to it. But the work was about to begin. All the bike CPs were on roads or trails, so it was pretty straightforward map reading, but route choices were in abundance. The long way via gravel road? Or the short way up and over a knoll on a steep singletrack?




I was a bit nervous as we made a left turn at the first fork and several teams were grouped there in deliberation. I thought I knew exactly where I was going. Was I missing something? Was there more to it than I thought? I decided to navigate my own race and not pay attention to other teams' dilemmas. We pedaled confidently past, climbing steadily along the gravel road. We opted for the shorter but steeper route this time. The first CP appeared exactly where expected and soon we were in a groove of turning left or right without hesitation, punching our electronic key at the CP, and moving on to the next one. As the team's strongest rider, I could sit up and soft pedal while following our progress on the map, eliminating the need to stop at intersections to verify our position.



A fun piece of singletrack delivered us to the end of the first bike leg and we picked up maps for the trekking section. After a quick study, I decided we could "read and run," finding the route from one CP to the next on the fly rather than taking time to sit down and plot the best route. Confidence and spirits high, we set off at a steady jog to the first CP. The second was a little trickier--there were trails that weren't mapped, making it hard to be sure of our exact location (no GPS allowed!). Finally, a spur turned in the right direction and I suspected we were close. The CP was supposed to be on the south side of a boulder, slightly off the trail. Russ spotted it and were were off again, just as two other teams arrived. If they hadn't seen us, maybe they would have hunted for it longer?

Next we were looking for a trail to the left. At about the right spot, a solo female racer ahead of us ducked into the woods and we followed. It appeared to be an overgrown trail, but soon disappeared, leading us into our first bushwhack of the day. Now we needed the compass and reliance on land features. It became a team effort to keep tracking the right direction to hit the road that we would follow to the CP. I think we erred in following her and would have found the real trail a bit beyond. But hind sight is always 20/20...We did find the road, but farther south than expected, leading us to turn left too soon. But we realized our mistake and Renee pointed out that it was just as close to continue around the loop as to backtrack.

The rest of the mandatory CPs came easily and we faced a choice: collect one or both of the optional CPs for extra points, or call it good and get going on the final bike leg. We still had plenty of time, so we decided to tackle the first optional one. As the crow flies, it was only about 1/3 mile away. A road led directly to it at about four times that distance. There was very little elevation change, so we took the bushwhack challenge. Russ and I agreed on a a bearing, aimed a little left so as to use the road as a handrail and not overshoot and as a team we kept each other on track. We followed a ridge line southwest, not wanting to descend to the right for fear of missing our target, and soon we heard voices below. We followed a faint path of disturbed grass and thick blackberry brambles and stinging nettles downhill and emerged in a clearing facing the CP flag! The other optional CP appeared to be an impossible bushwhack or a couple miles round trip by road and trail, so we skipped it, finished out the mandatories, and headed back to the bikes.


We were proud of ourselves for running nearly all of the trekking section, especially since assorted injuries kept us from doing this in the past. But this was far more running than I was accustomed to and my legs, feet and back noticed. My body rejoiced at being back in the saddle! With a fresh set of maps, we set out to hunt down the final eight CPs. I was back in pedaling and map reading mode, guiding us confidently along from point to point. Before we knew it, we had only two optional CPs and a final mandatory one between us and the finish. We had ample time and both optional points were en route to the finish. The first one involved a mile or so of twisty, technical singletrack with steep drops, slippery roots and tight turns. The second was easier to reach, but the climb out the other side of a creek drainage was steep and challenging. Adding to the pressure was a three-person male team hot on our heels. We had seen them numerous times during the race, sometimes separated by far more than the legal distance. I suspect they were faster than us, but we made better navigation choices. We weren't about to let them beat us to the finish.

We punched the last CP and made a beeline for home, crossing the line just seconds ahead of the boys. We were the eighth team out of 27 to finish! We celebrated our success with grins, high fives, and hot bar-be-que at the post-race party before loading up all the wet, muddy gear for the slog home. Spirits are still high and we have a renewed enthusiasm for the sport of adventure racing.