Triple Ironman 2000

“No man shall withstand the fury of Mother Nature”

Walter Rawle

For this lone kayaker in the field of eight competitors, the Odyssey Adventure Racing Triple Ironman Triathlon proved to be a disaster which could have turned fatal.

The saga begins on the evening of September 14 when I arrived at Colonial Beach, Virginia, primed to challenge the most difficult event of my noviate ultra career. My support person for day 1 of the event , Larry Haak, and I meet with the race director to receive directions for the paddle portion of the event. The race director presents a map hand drawn on a white board indicating that the paddle course is 11 miles out and back with turn points marked by buoys. Further, we are instructed that that paddling course is never any further than 20 feet from the shoreline. With these instructions firmly burned into my brain and completely understood by my support crew, I get in the rack for a few hours sleep before my 5 a.m. wakeup.

Wake-up comes early, as always, and I felt strong and good to go. By 6:45 a.m., I was in my kayak paddling up to the start line, gliding effortlessly through calm waters, looking forward to a great race. By 7 a.m., the official race start time, disaster is beginning to raise its ugly head. The rescue boat, which is supposed to watch over me, has not arrived. The buoys which are supposed to mark my turn points have not been placed. Steve Kirby, from Odyssey Adventure Racing, yells “GO”. I start paddling the course that was given to me, hoping that the late arriving rescue boat would come around, place the buoys, and then attend to it prime mission, my safety. Mother Nature had other plans for me.

At approximately 7:30, a squall blew into the bay whipping up five to ten foot waves with a 40 knot wind from the north. I continued paddling through the rough water hoping to find a turnpoint or some indication of where I should go. As I looked around, there were no buoys and no safety boat. I turned the kayak into the wind and attempted a zigzag pattern up the coast, hoping to find some sign of where I should be heading. I paddled about a mile south along the coast line before changing direction again. During this maneouver, I was hit by a breaking wave at my 5 o’clock position and rolled the kayak. Dressed in nothing but a cotton T-shirt, nylon shorts, and a lifejacket, and hanging on to my swamped kayak in the middle of these turbulent waters, I looked around for assistance. No buoys, no landmarks, no safety boat. My only option was to swim/push the kayak to the shoreline which appeared to be approximately half a mile away. I got to shore, emptied the kayak, and started out again. I made another zigzag pattern up the coast, again no buoys, no landmarks, no safety boat. I made another flip and had to make a second fight for shore. While I am preparing for a third entry into the water, the safety boat finally shows up. Because of the sea state, it takes over an hour to get me on board the safety boat. The rescue boat official informs me that it would be impossible to paddle back across the bay in the given weather conditions and that he is going to take me in.

I arrive at the transition area at 12 noon, 5 hours after race start. I ask my support person to explain what has happened to the race director while I prepare for the cycling section. Through the rest of the afternoon and into Saturday, I cycle 336 miles in 24 hours. Late Saturday afternoon I begin my run and by 8 a.m. Sunday morning I have covered 46 miles.

During the loop for mile 46, the race director rides along side me to discuss the kayak situation. To say that we had a heated discussion would be an understatement. I had discovered through the night, in talking to different people, that the course that he described was nothing like the course set out by the local boat club. The reason that I was lost in the bay for four hours was that the rescue boat presumed that I was in one area, when in fact, I was over four miles away.

The race director informed me that I would have to repeat the kayak segment. With 46 miles of the run completed and over 11 hours left to complete the event, I informed the race director that I was withdrawing from the competition.. A principal edict of the IUTA is to “maintain the safety and integrity of the participants” in all IUTA sanctioned events.

In my opinion, the race organization was reckless and irresponsible in its actions on the morning of September 15 and clearly did not fulfill the expectations of an IUTA sanctioned event.

A few people have contacted me shortly after the event and suggested that I should be depressed about not finishing or that it was unfortunate that I dropped out at mile 46 of the run. I thank these people for their concern but I must emphasize that I am not depressed and it was not unfortunate that I withdrew from the competition in protest. We should all consider our safety in these events and clearly inform our friends of any difficulties we encounter. For if we don’t, Gary Taylor will have died in vain.