Preparation
Another lockdown during the pandemic put our planned
training weekend in November on hold. Although we would be outside in the fresh
air, we’d still be four households meeting up and that was against the
regulations, so we pushed back the date to the middle of December hoping that
the restrictions would be relaxed. They weren’t. So instead of canceling
altogether, we changed strategies and made a new plan.
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| Trails closed off due to wild boar hunt |
The drive from Regensburg to Hohnhorst, a small
village west of Hannover, went smoothly and in five hours I was reunited with
Vincent and Carina (and Miley the chocolate Labrador), the heart and soul of
our team. Over an early dinner we discussed the plans and I learned the news
that Carina was five-months pregnant. The next generation of adventure racers
was in the making.
Carina was our support team lead, and to reduce her
burden for the training session, Vincent decided that we would have limited
transitions in order to let her stay home and oversee ‘operations’ from there.
Limited transitions means long stages… very long. And Vincent is known to
underestimate the length of his courses.
We would have only three disciplines: running/hiking, mountain biking and paddling, in that order. The running stage was planned to be approximately 52 kilometers long, then 75 km of biking, then 15 km paddling. In order to keep within the regulations and the two household mandate, Vincent and I would be alone and a second group comprised of his cousin, Angelus, and Nicole, an enthusiastic climber and new AR prospect, would be running the course parallel but in the opposite direction. It would be a mock race; and with both teams sending updates, photos and videos to Carina throughout, it would all be uploaded real-time to Instagram so that we could be followed and tracked.
The logistics were a bit tricky. Vincent and I left
Hohnhorst at 6pm in two vehicles. He had the van with our bikes and gear, while
I followed him in a second car to what would be our first transition. From
there Vincent got in the car with me and we drove to the start of our first
leg, which would be running. We planned to run to the van, grab our bikes and
then bike back to Hohnhorst. Angelus and Nicole would begin opposite. They
would start on the bikes in Hohnhorst and ride to the van, then put their bikes
in the van and run to the second vehicle parked at what would then be the end
of their running leg (the beginning of ours).
And if all went well, we’d cross somewhere in between.
Start:
Friday, December 11, 2020, 9 pm
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| Lönsturm |
After an initial climb the trail flattened out and we
were running at an easy pace. The next checkpoint was the Lönsturm (a.k.a. Löns
Towert). I’d come to know that Vincent, who creates our courses, likes to use
all the lookout towers, viewpoints and essentially the most difficult to attain
locations in the area as checkpoints. At
one point along the way, as I was struggling up yet another monstrous climb, I
asked him why he doesn’t throw in some easy access points in the flatlands. His
reply, “The races don’t have those, so why should be train that way?” Good
point.
 |
| Small clearing |
From there the next checkpoint was one that we knew
from the last training weekend, the ‘kleine Lichtung’, or small clearing in the
woods. Again, during daylight, an easy find, but during the night a little
glade in an actively cultivated forest is not self-evident. Thankfully, it was
located at a crossing, so we found the trail signs and spied the clearing with
ease.
The
first time that we got lost…
The next checkpoint was called ‘tunnel on the south
end of the quarry’ and this was going to cause us the most trouble of the
entire day/night/day. Since Vincent knew the area well, I was doing the
navigating. But since I didn’t have any idea of the terrain and that the old
coal quarry (Tagebau Humboldt) was home to the highest cliffs in Niedersachsen
which opened up a hole in the forest floor like an entry to hell, I took us way
off course. Actually, we were on course, but I did not realize that access to
the tunnel was only from inside the quarry on the east side, whereas I brought
us to the outside from the west. This route was much easier to access, but
Vincent was pleased to announce that we’d have to backtrack for a valid
checkpoint. Ugh. So we turned around and climbed back up those dozens of meters
of elevation that we just jogged down, back into the woods, circumventing the
quarry on the north side (glad that it was dark so that I couldn’t clearly see
the black-hole drop into eternity) and after some tricky path finding, we
finally arrived at the old abandoned tunnel at the end of the quarry.
 |
| Tunnel |
But to dash my excitement and enthusiasm, the tunnel
was fenced off on the outside (which Vincent knew) so we had to find another
way out of the quarry. We decided to try to climb over the embankment which the
tunnel ran through, so we turned around and then made a sharp right, climbing
the steep embankment on all fours. There was a narrow path on top which we
followed south-west, our desired course, but the path seemed to get narrower
and narrower and then suddenly we found ourselves crawling under thorny bushes,
my hat and headlamp being pulled in disarray, my knees wet from the mud until
we finally decided we were no longer on a people-path, but an animal track and
we decided to turn around. After trying to reorient ourselves in the woods, we
relied only on our compasses to get us in the right direction and upon hearing
a road in the distance we followed the sounds of the traffic to get us back on
course.
The next checkpoint was a boat rental shack on a small
lake. To get there we could stay on the roads, though I had chosen to try to
spare us about a kilometer and routed us through yet another quarry. We soon
found out this was a poor option as we noticed the terrain falling away ahead
of us and we soon turned around to suck up the extra kilometer on the road and
play it safe.
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| Selfie at the docks |
After finding the abandoned docks on the lake, we had
an easy 6 kilometer jog along a bike path before reentering the forest and a
steep climb in the woods up to our next checkpoint: the Wilhelm Raabe Turm, a
15-meter high skeleton-metal tower, another favorite of Vincent’s. We’d also
seen this on our last training and I knew I wouldn’t be ascending this one. To
access the platform you have to climb ladders and since the temps were hovering
around freezing and we’d already found ice at the top of the Lönsturm, I knew
it would be too dangerous and apparently Vincent knew it too since he didn’t
even mention the ascent. Whew…
Five
hours later…
There was a small enclosed hut at the base of the
tower so we took a short break to eat, drink and rest the legs. We were 27 kilometers
and five hours into the trek. I mentioned that we were halfway. Vincent replied
that we were still several kilometers from our next checkpoint which was a
parking lot on the Ith, and from there we would have 28 kilometers to
transition. Hmmm… That sounded like the route was going to be considerably more
than the planned 52 kilometers but, knowing Vincent, that didn’t come as a
surprise.
 |
| Wilhelm Raabe Turm |
We couldn’t stop for more than a couple of minutes
before our bodies began to drastically cool down and it would take precious
energy to warm up our muscles and core body temperature, so we only stopped
when necessary.
After reaching the parking area, the same place where
I’d spent several hours alone in the darkness while waiting for Vincent and
Lucas on our last training event, we began the climb on the narrow technical
trails adjacent to the Ith, a 22-kilometer-long ridge-line of cliffs, and a
favorite spot for climbers throughout Germany.
 |
| Rothschildhöhle |
The trail is a constant climb and descent over rocks,
roots and is constantly crisscrossed by smaller paths. If that didn’t make it
hard enough to follow, then the magnitude of autumn leaves strewn everywhere
topped it off. And don’t forget that it was 1 o’clock in the morning, so it was
pitch dark. Our first check point along that ridge was the Rothschildhöhle,
otherwise known as the bat cave, from which access was closed off for the
winter months so that the bats could hibernate. From there our next check point
was the Bärenhöhle, the bear den, similarly closed off with bars for the winter
so that they could get their winter sleep. Ok, that cave was just named for fun
and there were no bears in there…hopefully. Vincent had been there many times
before, both hiking and climbing, and despite a few wrong turns, he got us
through there without getting lost.
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| Vincent on the cliffs |
Is
dirty water better than no water?
After finally getting out of the woods and into a
small village, we both realized that we were running short on water and we
decided to look for a cemetery where there are always accessible water spigots.
But we saw no church steeple in the village, which wasn’t a good sign. A
cemetery without a church is not to find in Germany. But we did find a public
building that had an outdoor spigot, and despite being well into the start of
winter, the water was still turned on. So we filled up our bottles, ignoring
the foggy-brownish color of the water.
A few minutes later we were back into the woods and on
a well-traveled trail leading up to the Ithturm. As usual we climbed the spiral
stairway to the top, but on the last few turns the metal staircase swayed under
our weight. This didn’t give me a warm cozy feeling so after a quick look at
the amazing 360 degree view of the lights in the valley. I scurried back down
as fast as I could.
That entire section of trail slightly sloped off to
the right, which was torture for my still-injured ankle. Running flat or at a
leftward tilt was relatively pain free, but the right slope and the technical
jaggedness of it was pushing my pain threshold. Thankfully the bike leg was on
the near horizon. But still, we decided to get off the small path and try to
traverse the ridge on a lower forestry road. Although that was much easier on
my ankle, the going was rough because the entire surface of the road for about
a mile stretch was a thick grainy mud bath and we were trekking uphill through
it. The mud gripped onto our shoes so that with each step instead of sliding
backwards, it grabbed onto our shoes. I was afraid they would get stuck in the
mud and I’d come out in my socked feet. So I tied my laces tight and hoped for
the best. This was also the end for one of Vincent’s trekking poles when the
bottom 20 cm of one remained where it was placed in the mud.
 |
| Lookout |
Our last checkpoint on the running leg was the Adam
and Eve rock formation: two giant narrow free-standing monoliths, one larger
than the other, standing side-by-side. From there we had a long descent to the
transition area and noticed the sky beginning to brighten in the distance. As
we neared the village of Coppenbrügge the trail turned into steep switchbacks
with packed earth steps. Emerging from the woods, we saw the van parked at the
Lindenbrun Hospital in the distance and had only to cross about 500 meters of
field paths to reach it. With the first low beams of daylight, I turned off my
headlamp and we ran to the van feeling exhausted and exhilarated at the same
time.
Transition
to the bikes at T-13 hours
We got to the van where we found the bikes from Nicole
and Ange inside. Vincent took them out so that we had space to get changed. We
decided to first get changed into clean dry clothes then rest for a few minutes
giving us some time to eat, drink and prepare for the bike leg. Vincent, being
a gentleman, said that I could go into the back of the van first and get
changed. There was a curtain that separated the drivers and passengers seats
from the cargo room in the back, so I assumed that Vincent would sit
comfortably up front and wait. I was moving in slow motion and had trouble
peeling the layers of clothing off with ice-cold hands. After a while I
wondered why I hadn’t heard Vincent in the front; maybe he’d fallen asleep? But
then I heard him call from outside, “Everything ok in there?” Oh! He’s outside!
He must be freezing, I thought. Luckily I was just finishing up and we swapped
places… but I got into the passenger seat where it was protected from the cold
wind. Once Vincent had changed, he got into the divers seat and we turned on
the heat, ate, drank, sent photos and videos to Carina, and checked messages.
 |
| The van at transition |
Then onto the bikes feeling refreshed and excited about
continuing in daylight. Initially we had a long climb up to St. Avoid, a small
lake in a nature preserve. From there we continued uphill and then enjoyed a
speedy descent to the Wolfsbuchen Hütte where we took a short break to eat. It
was there that the conversation suddenly turned to English. I’ve lived in Germany
for 20 years, so my German, though not perfect, is fluent. And Vincent has
traveled a lot and his English is excellent, but we almost always speak German
with each other. Strangely enough though, during those 24 hours underway, it
was only those few minutes that we switched to English after which we reverted back
to the language of the land. Kind of bizarre.
Next stop: Homeisters Cave, which was easily located
directly on the forestry road. The next checkpoint was tricky though; we were
looking for ‘old stone walls’. We had to go off the road and into the woods,
cutting across a ravine, over which we had to carry our bikes, then onto a
windy footpath that suddenly was full of day trekkers, so we knew we must be
near a ‘point of interest’. The stones walls were only remains of
who-knows-what and we stopped for a minute so Vincent could take a photo as
evidence that we’d found them. I laid my bike down and then laid myself down in
the dirt and closed my eyes. We’d been going for about 17 hours, not to mention
that I’d been up since 6 am the previous day, so the fatigue was settling in. I
think I may have dozed for a minute or so. Power nap. It actually felt good and
oddly enough I felt slightly refreshed.
Then we had another long, arduous climb up to the
highest point on the Deister, the lookout point Kalenberg. The forest had been
cleared there a few years back, there must have been an infestation or
something, so the clearing provided no protection from the wind which was
blowing strong and it was cold. It was there that Vincent stopped and took off
his backpack for a short break and to get some food out of his pack. I was
cooling down rapidly and told him I couldn’t stay there, so I slowly started
again knowing that our course would follow the main trail for the next half a
dozen kilometers and that he would soon catch up with me.
The Deister is well known for its mountain biking
trails and, since it was now Saturday afternoon, there were bikers everywhere,
and not only in groups of two. There were also day hikers in masses. Thankfully
Vincent had a bell on his bike to let them know we were coming through when we
came up from behind. Our next checkpoint was the Annaturm, which was located at
a small beer garden that was closed due to the pandemic. The area surrounding
the tables was cordoned off by red-and-white police tape, but that didn’t keep
people from sitting on them. I also needed to lie down for a minute so I hopped
over the barrier and laid down. No sooner had I closed my eyes when a woman
came right up to my bench and began looking around. It was strange behavior,
especially with the quarantine rules requiring 1.5-meter distance which most
people were religious about observing. But I was exhausted and tried to get in a
2-minute power nap.
 |
| Somewhere in Niedersachsen |
As we started up again I mentioned to Vincent about
the woman’s odd behavior. He had also seen her looking around and was pretty
sure that she was looking for a geocache. That would explain it.
The Nordmannsturm, an eerie stone building with
lookout tower that looked like an old strong-hold, turned into a restaurant in
non-corona times, was the next checkpoint. It was directly on the forestry path
and since we were in downhill momentum, we just powered right by without
stopping for a photo.
The
brain starts to slow down…
The next checkpoint was called Stolleneingang /
Feggendorfer Stollen. As a non-native German speaker who was now experiencing sleep
deprivation and exhaustion, I had no idea what that meant nor the foggiest
notion as to what we should be looking for. Turns out we were looking for a
coal mine, although the German word for coal, Kohle, was nowhere to be found.
To make things ‘more fun’, Vincent had placed a no-go area on the map so that
we didn’t have direct access to the mine. We’d have to leave the main forestry
road that ran along the ridgeline and find an adjacent path to traverse the mountainside.
I had marked a parallel path along the map, but with mountain-bike trails
zig-zagging everywhere, we were not 100% sure if we were on course. The path
was a very old forestry road that was very grown over with thorns and rock
debris that had fallen from above. The hillside was steep upwards to our right
and an equally abrupt drop-off to our left. We didn’t have any choice but to
move forward or turn around. I had already lost my sense of orientation as we
were deep in the forest with no roads or trails in sight, but Vincent kept
saying that we needed to lose elevation. We kept pushing on and eventually a
trail came into sight that was well-traveled and then a small MTB path sprung
off from that which led us right into the parking lot of the coal mine.
Although our next checkpoint, the lookout tower
Deisterblick, was at about the same contour line as where we currently were,
due to Vincent’s no-go area, we needed to descend significantly and then climb
the hill again. He did this on purpose of course since there is an absolute
killer incline that he didn’t want us to miss out on (don’t let the sarcasm
escape you). It was so steep and I was so tired, that I could barely even get
my body up the hill, let alone my bike, so once Vincent arrived at the top, he
came down to retrieve me and take my bike, making a video of my suffering for
fond future memories.
Much
too tired to flirt…
Once again on the top of the ridgeline, we zig-zagged
the trails leading to the Deisterblick lookout platform, our next checkpoint,
and it we arrived there just as a runner was also climbing the stairs. He was very
jovial and initiated conversation with us immediately, telling us about how
proud he was and how good he felt to have just ran up the hill to the lookout
point. Vincent, as always, was being very polite. But the guy kept talking
directly to me and I could barely muster a smile, let alone conversation. If he
had only known that we’d been on the go for the last 22 hours then he may have
understood, but that would have opened up a whole new bag of worms, so I just
kept smiling, nodding and letting Vincent do the rest.
The last lookout tower that we would have to ascend
that day was the Belvedereturm as the sun was beginning to set, after which we
emerged from the forest of the Deister hills for the last time on that tour. We
rode into Rodenberg where Vincent told me that that was the village where his
wife Carina grew up. Not two minutes later my phone rang, and it was Carina,
telling us that Angelus and Nicole were at their limits and were cutting short
their running leg and heading straight for the cars. I wasn’t too surprised and
was nevertheless very impressed with the endurance that Nicole has shown on her
first 24-hour orienteering training.
There were a few steep hills in Rodenberg and I was
amazed at how our legs were holding up as we seemed to be climbing them with
relative ease, although paved roads are naturally a lot easier to traverse than
some of the other terrain we’d been on.
Up to the water tower for the next checkpoint and then
on to the last ‘Waldeinfahrt Beckedorf”. Again here, I was so tired that I wasn’t
really sure what we were looking for. Waldeinfahrt? Entrance to the woods? We
were again in a small forest with paths crossing everywhere. There were a lot
of dog-walkers about and thankfully Vincent knew approximately where we had to
go but briefly stopped to ask two women with a small dog if we were heading in
the right direction. Thankfully we were, and once we emerged into the parking
lot of the entrance to the woods (Waldeinfahrt), we were back onto paved roads
and only had about 5 kilometers of easing riding through fields and small
villages until we were back in Hohnhorst where Carina was leaning out the
window waiting to congratulate.
It was 7 pm and we’d been going for exactly 24 hours. Couldn’t
have planned it better.
Actually, we had planned a paddling leg to follow, but
considering that Angelus and Nicole were out, and I’ve got a sore shoulder, we
decided to call it a night and instead get pampered by Carina with her homemade
pizza and hot tea.
Stats
Running: 61.22 kilometers; 1,565 meters elevation
climb: total time 12 hrs 44 minutes which included ‘breaks’, climbing up
lookout towers, checkpoint photos, map reading, etc.
Transition: 1 hour 15 minutes
Biking: 79.90 kilometers; 1,584 meters climb; total
time 9 hours 58 minutes including all the stops
For more information about Adventure Racing in German visit: https://www.adventureracing-germany.de/
Email: info@ar-germany.de
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