La Ruta De Los Conquistadores 2003

La Ruta de Los Conquistadores
Costa Rica 14th-16th November 2003

This is the 11th edition of the trans Costa Rica event that crosses from the Pacific to the Caribbean coast. Riders compete as individuals or teams of four and can be supported by ‘companions’ – the Costa Rican term for pit-babes. These pay the entry fee and get transported around the course, shadowing their rider and providing any assistance - food, spares, clothing, roadside massages, photos et al. Each of the three stages has five check points, manned with enthusiastic Ticos, water, energy drinks and fruit. Riders can be withdrawn at any of the checkpoints if they are behind schedule for finishing in daylight.
Sunday Riders: Raymond Hallam, Jane Geddes, Paul Facer, Julie Dinsdale, Keith Bontrager


Day –1 Wednesday 12th November
Raymond, Paul and I take Iberia Airlines flight from London Heathrow to San Jose, Costa Rica via Madrid & Miami. The journey is uneventful other than pointless immigration procedures in the US. There’s no one from La Ruta to meet us so we catch a cab to our hotel, the Best Western Irazu. Most of the competitors are staying here; it’s clean, comfortable and has a swimming pool. We celebrate our arrival with beers and a cubalibre by the poolside, entertained by an erotic soundtrack – someone’s pre-race preparations? A tipsy Raymond tests the pool temperature by stepping in unaware that he still has his shoes on.

Day 0 Thursday 13th November
San Jose - Jaco

Wake early and unpack bikes. Today we are to be transferred to Jaco where the race will start, its about 2 hours away, Tomorrow night we are back here so we need only take what we require for Day 1 of the race, everything else can be stored downstairs. How everyone knows this I do not understand as we’ve been given no information whatsoever. We hurriedly pack some stuff and store the rest as we’re due to leave at 8am. After breakfast we meet up with Julie and Keith. Everyone gathers in the car park but nothing seems to be happening, manana mode has already crept in. Eventually a truck arrives and our bikes are loaded on, buses to take us are waiting at the other entrance. With little movement going on we decide to buy some food/water for the trip, typically this is the best catalyst for action and the buses are impatiently waiting for us on our return.

On our way we stop at a village to stretch our legs, the air conditioned buses and overcast skies belie the actual heat and humidity outside. There’s another impromptu stop before we reach Jaco to see crocodiles basking on sandbanks under a bridge. Our hotel is the Best Western Jaco Playa and is right on the beach. We register for the race, go for lunch in a café with a pet lizard, which Raymond tries to feed with lettuce, and christens Lizarbet. The race briefing is scheduled for 4 but occurs at 5, we will begin to get used to these time discrepancies in the days to come. There are the usual disclaimers and scare stories but there are some fit looking girlies around and with a 40% drop-out rate from 350 starters it does make me wonder about our chances of finishing. We eat well then get our kit ready for the 3.30am start tomorrow. Raymond is dismayed to find he hasn’t packed any shorts – disaster! Of all the bits of kit you really don’t want to do without on the first day of ‘the hardest mountain bike race on the planet’ Luckily my baggy Endura’s fit him and he doesn’t mind a bit of cross dressing!

Day 1 Friday 14th November
Jaco – Ciudad Colon, San Jose
Distance 65miles Ride time 8hr50

3.30 wake-up call, we dress and check our bikes, my new rear disc pads are rubbing badly, I hope they will bed in once I get going. Breakfast is fruit, rice and beans. We start as soon as dawn breaks ~5am. There’s no signing in like the TransAlp, they just assume you’ll all be there, there’s no real start line or obvious timing procedures either. At the start we meet James Leavesley, the only other British entrant and his ‘companion’ Gareth, who immediately takes us all under his wing, filling Raymond’s water bottles seconds before the off. Down the main street, last year this was the scene of several crashes, people hitting potholes in the dark and fracturing collar bones before they’d even got going, hence the wait for daybreak this year. We soon turn on to fire tracks and Paul and James get a good start. I’m with Julie but Raymond is nowhere to be seen. I begin to worry after a couple of miles, slow down and let Julie cruise away. He finally appears having found his legs empty for the initial climb, we get into a rhythm of short, sharp ups then downs. It’s only 6am but already the air temperature is in the 80’s with a similar humidity, the sweat just pours. At CP1 we are reunited with Julie who is having problems with her gears. Our muddy bikes are jet washed and oiled while we eat/drink. From CP1-CP2 is reportedly the hardest part of the race, with hike-a-bike sections and river crossings through the National Park. It doesn’t disappoint! Muddy gullies 1:3 steep up and the temperature keeps climbing. I’m finding this difficult to cope with, Raymond chivvies me on and carries my bike on the steeper sections. The downs are just as steep but I’m too spaced out to be scared and find them surprisingly rideable. At the bottom of each down is a river crossing, some ankle deep, others mid thigh. I submerge myself in every stream we cross in an effort to get my core temperature down, it helps temporarily but the nausea, utter exhaustion and irritability remains. Before reaching CP2 Raymond is out of water and we’re close to the time limit, we make a determined spurt and just make it. Again Julie is trying to fix her gears and Raymond helps while I try to get juice into my disgruntled stomach. Our bikes are again jet washed and oiled up and we set off on easier, rolling tracks. I discover cold water down my back works a treat and there are plenty of locals with hosepipes willing to oblige, I’m slowly reviving but the extra push has hit Raymond hard. He cycles with Julie as I move ahead. I soon see Keith who’s curled up in the shade by a stream, he’s suffering badly with the heat too. Just before CP3 I see Cal (our La Ruta guru) and James who is beset by cramp. We are met by Gareth who takes my excess gear off me. I eat/drink and wait for the others. It’s onto tarmac to CP4, the road winds ever upwards in a series of hairpinned bends, I can keep a reasonable pace as long as my back is cold but Raymond is down to walking/riding along with Cal. Julie and Keith have stopped for a longer rest. The road continues after CP4, Raymond walks/rides, I ride/wait. A morale boosting road descent is cruelly interrupted by a sudden deviation down a steep, thick muddy drop packed with locals expecting crashes. A short up to CP5 and only 20km left. Most of it’s up, a gradually ascending gravel fire road. I ride or walk with Raymond and enjoy the stunning rainforest scenery, bananas, ferns and vines. At the top a tarmac section undulates and then drops into Ciudad Colon. The finish line is in sight, Raymond and I overtake a spluttering car and cross the line to complete Day 1. We meet up with Paul and James and are shortly followed by Julie who has left Keith to come in some time later. I go to get food but am overcome by nausea so catch the next shuttle bus to Hotel Irazu. Here I promptly faint at check-in, stagger to our room, which has yet to be made up, reel back to reception, get another room allocation and collapse. Raymond is just as bad, we sip water whenever we’re conscious but eating is impossible. Starting again tomorrow is looking highly unlikely, if I’d had enough energy I’d have cried myself to sleep.

Day 2 Saturday 16th November
San Jose – Turrialba
Distance 51 miles, Ride time 8hr 23
We wake at 3.30. The others tried to find us last night but weren’t told we’d changed rooms, they ate well, we’ve had nothing but water and I feel much better, although still very queasy I can at least stand up and keep a little breakfast down. Tonight we are staying in Turrialba, which is where we are joining the Mountain Beach tour after the race. We take all our stuff with us hoping to be able to leave it there and so not to have to return to San Jose. We are bused to downtown San Jose for the start at 6.00am. As we all mill around word filters through that the start has been ‘mananared’ to 7.00, precious time that could have been spent sleeping or eating! Today’s route is shorter but has an elevation gain of 12,000ft. At 7.00 a disorganised, unchecked mob starts to charge through the streets of San Jose, battling with the traffic and jumping red lights. I guess we're off! Paul and James are flying, Raymond, Julie, Keith and I start together but lack of food steals the pace from our legs, Julie storms ahead and we don’t see her again. The road gets very steep and it’s difficult to stay on even though it’s good tarmac. A sharp right turn leads onto singletrack through farmland with dry stone walls and nut trees. There’s a short hike-a-bike section then hard-packed mud/dirt and gravel track that culminates in a ‘seisemic line’ up to CP1. As I approach the bottom I hear an almighty cheer from the top and watch in awe as Brett Wolff , a right leg amputee at upper thigh level, clears it! Brett is an inspiration, he rides without a prosthetic on a quadruple front chain set and is an awesome bike handler and really nice bloke. I wait for Raymond, drink juice and we start the long road climb to the top of the Irazu volcano. Typically this includes frustrating descents that lose all the painfully gained altitude. CP2 is half way up and is stocked with boiled potatoes, I am suddenly ravenous and can think of nothing more appetising, I gorge myself whilst waiting for Raymond to appear. He’s not recovered from the trials of yesterday and wants to retire. I tell him no way! We agree that if we’re too slow and get pulled out fair enough but it’s going to be their call not ours. He struggles on but ends up walking most of the road climb. I’ve gone on to escape the heat and cycle along with Brett and a US ex-pat Italian called Mick. I wait at CP3, the summit. In the time it takes for Raymond to join me the weather has changed completely, a descending mist has thickened into rain cloud and the temperature is dropping quickly. I don arm and leg warmers, a Goretex coat and long fingered gloves for the descent, a rocky, hairpinned track. This is over before it really begins and the track turns left into a farmyard through deep puddles of mud and cowshit. This undulates upwards for what seems like an eternity, it’s now raining hard and rumbling with thunder. Eventually it points downwards again, big slabs of granite with steps and drop-offs all covered by a running stream of water. I’m cold and tired and as I bounce down the hill keep thinking ‘I shouldn’t be riding this, I don’t do tricky, slippery rocks’. Mick and I descend together, I stop at junctions to make sure Raymond doesn’t go astray, he does try to do so at two points. CP4 is half way down manned by bedraggled marshals. I want to keep going but Raymond needs to stop and is given hot sweet molasses to drink. We continue the descent over baby head rocks hoping that the air will get warmer lower down. The track widens and teases us with 20foot stretches of tarmac on the bends, we pass through a village and onto a well made road which climbs to the right. An immediate left takes us through the remnants of CP5, (there’s only a marshall left) but we’re not withdrawn and it’s only 8km to go! A wide fine gravel road winds through lovely dark green bushes bedecked with green and red berries. It’s lush and beautiful and I’m surprised when someone tells me it’s a huge coffee plantation. We swoop down to the finish on a football ground in Turrialba, it’s twilight but we’ve survived day 2! The prize – starting it all again tomorrow. We eat our post-race rice and beans, buy a pair of Ciclo Quilly socks each and board the shuttle bus to our hotel, the Turrialtico. The Mountain Beach group should be here tomorrow night. Paul and James are also here but Julie and Keith are in different hotels.

Day 3 Sunday 17th November
Turrialba – Playa Bonita, Limon
Distance 80 miles Ride time 8hr05

Our shuttle bus is collecting us at 6.30, we breakfast and arrange to leave everything for our return here tonight. The start is at the bottom of the hill, as we pull away we spot Cal sat in his civvies on the balcony but he looks odd. We ask why he’s not riding and he tells us he stacked yesterday with only 5km to go and fractured his left collarbone, Indeed, on closer inspection he’s black, blue, red, road-rashed and swollen, this explains the odd look. We’re all quite upset as Cal is the reason we’re here doing this. The start is at 7.00am but by 7.30 half the competitors still haven’t arrived –Julie included. We slather suntan lotion on having been badly burned on yesterday’s exposed climb. By 8.15 everyone is accounted for, we climb back up past our hotel. As usual James and Paul are at the front, Julie and I are next, Raymond and Keith are behind. At 10km we bear left onto a gravel descent, Julie’s gone on, I’m with Raymond who seems to be rallying a bit. The track deteriorates into knee deep gloopy mud which sucks relentlessly at shoes and wheels alike. It’s punctuated by a small river crossing and continues to a bridge over the main river. Julie is on the other side fixing a puncture, I have weeds wrapped around my rear mech and come to a grinding halt. I’m filmed and interviewed by someone as I try to unravel the vegetation. I catch Raymond at the bottom of the long climb, Julie has disappeared. The stony track is in full sun, what little wind there is makes the banana leaves rustle like rows of prayer flags. We dodge from spot to spot of shade and make full use of the hosepipes offered by the locals. Our skin is burning and we find it better to put arm warmers on and keep them wet than apply lotion. A steep kick up to CP1 and I wait for Raymond to join me. A wide gravel road descends, very steeply in places, (one guy is walking down to spare his dwindling brake pads!) and meanders along the valley before climbing steeply back out. As the sun rises there are fewer shady areas to cling to. I resort to cycling along the shadows made by electricity cables, convinced that I can feel the benefit of a cool line down my back. A steep walking section flattens for a short burst to CP2. Raymond takes photos of the villagers. It’s downhill then flat to the finish some 70km away. The main descent is wide smooth tarmac with hot wind blowing through our hair – bliss. At the bottom we’re directed onto the first section of railway track. This is synonymous with La Ruta, as are the rickety bits that span the fast flowing rivers, and has been eagerly awaited with fear and trepidation. The secret is to keep the speed up and bump across the sleepers. 50metres later it’s onto the parallel track then back again for the first bridge. The bikes have to be carried whilst carefully stepping from sleeper to sleeper in cleated shoes, this has the added excitement of rotten sleepers, slimy sleepers, moving sleepers or even absent sleepers. I’m not encouraged when a guy in front of me slips and lands with one leg dangling through a gaping hole 60feet above a rapidly flowing, crocodile infested river. Back to terra firma and 8 miles on the PanAmerican Highway, Costa Rica’s principal road on the side of which Raymond decides to have a pee. A left turn takes us onto a smaller road past banana and coconut plantations and busy with workers cycling to and from work. CP3 looms, we’re told it’s a good 2 and a half hours to the finish and it’s already 3.30. We are going to have to push it if we’re to finish before dark at 6. At that moment we’re passed by 6 riders going like the clappers, bit’n’bitting it. I yell at Raymond to get on my wheel and chase after then at 20mph. Once caught we stick to them like glue. The track is interspersed with deviations onto the parallel railway, I’m surprised at how fast I can go along the sleepers but the adrenalin fright of not finishing is kicking in and before I know it we’re at CP4. A quick drink, 40km to go, immediately we’re back onto the railway line and several dodgy river crossings. One is double spanned and has several large gaps, too large for all but the longest legs to stride over. Some local youngsters who trip across these daily help us with the bikes. I find stepping outside the rails you can walk on the metal framework, the only disadvantage is it’s only 18” wide with nothing to hold onto over dizzly spinning rapids! The rest of the crossings are small canals. I should try my hand at cyclo-cross after all this quick mount/dismount practice! On one of these the strong girl heading the fast bunch overbalances and falls headfirst into the 10feet trench, luckily she’s unhurt, just shaken. As the sleepers become more proud we deviate onto a singletrack wedged between the jutting sleepers and a deep parallel ditch, then regain the tracks filled with large stones. I repeat a mantra to pedal smoothly and keep the speed up until the end of this section, we’ve ridden over 15km of railway. CP5 is at the end and this is the last chance for them to disqualify us. The sun is slowly setting and I don’t allow Raymond to stop, flying through the check point, we’re again chasing to get on the wheels and bit’n’bitting it, we are averaging 20-25mph dodging the potholes on a dusty dirt path that runs parallel to a palm fringed beach. It’s becoming a race against the receding daylight, 20km to go and we’re pedalling flat out, settling into a good rhythm, biggest gear and powering along, lungs burning, legs screaming but all exhaustion overwhelmed by the lure of the finish. As we take the lead the others lose one of their group and slow up to wait. We’re on our own now, can’t afford to slow down, the path is interminable, I put my head down and forge onwards, there are no markers to tell us how much further. Along the headland we can see the lights of Limon port, they look deceivingly close, but we never seem to get any nearer. We’re passing riders in groups of 2’s and 3’s and I’m charged. We pass a girl illuminated in the headlights of her support vehicle, it’s dark enough to lose colour distinction now and the potholes are getting hard to discern. We fly past a house and people yell 5km to go, we drag every last resource for the final stretch and soon join a tarmac road around the portside. A green arrow is picked up by the harbour lights and we follow a road lined with trees that obliterate the last of the light. We have no lights and hope our reflective clothing is enough to pick us out, oncoming headlights stun the eyes and we stumble our way through departing race traffic to cross the finishing line on the beach, skidding in the deep sand. We’re immediately blinded and deafened by flashing lights and excited shouts of James and Gareth taking photos. We’ve done it!! Paul, Julie and Keith are also there, we collect our medals and sit in an exhausted, happy bunch in the sand.

Epilogue.
Of the 350 starters in this year’s La Ruta, 227 finished.
Our final results:
James 111st
Paul 139th
Julie 184th
Jane 213th
Raymond 214th
Keith retired
And with the best laid plans of mice and men we ended up having to catch the race bus back to San Jose as they couldn’t take us back to Turrialba. As we sped through the night it began to rain and our bus had a front tyre blow-out. This was well controlled by the driver who turned us all out onto the verge whilst he fixed it. We arrived back at the Irazu at 11.30pm and caught a taxi back to Turrialba, the bikes piled on the roof with pieces of cardboard in between, for the start of our island tour with Mountain Beach. (see Costa Rica trip).