In the mean time what’s next? Well after my minor misdemeanour in the Woldsman (more on that at some point!) I am now back training and have some goals back in my sites.
Next month I have the Wharfedale Half Marathon (perhaps the marathon?) and then the Swaledale Marathon, but in the mean time I have bitten the bullet and am actually doing a 10K. This will be the smallest race I have ever done, the other being the Ferriby 10.

With a good summer of training behind me after the MdS I am really looking forward to getting some better ultra results at the end of the year, perhaps sooner if something comes along!

But in the mean time let’s see if I can run a decent 10K time… I might have to put in 20k to the start line to warm up!

After that something big is poking its head over the horizon … brrr.

It was the previous night when the British rumour mill started working overtime, the only thing we knew was that it was going to be a toughie, sure the distance may be a bit shorter than the previous year (but still as long as the MdS was several years ago) but they were not going to leave us short changed and wanting more!

In terms of actual checks I can’t speak for anyone else but I was waved through with no check of my emergency kit, a cursory glance of the ECG and difficult questions like “you done this before?”… “nope…”, “any questions for me?” and that was about it. Done, number issued, kit handed over and time to sit in the warm sun and wait for tea to be served – oh and a staple feature of the MdS, a speech from Patrick.

In the mean time, a man with a camel and a local band provided the entertainment. Unique, to say the least. 7 different instruments, one note per instrument and each one in a seemingly conflicting key to the rest! Very relaxing. Actually - I enjoyed it and the drumming was largly good (unlike most other live music we heard in the hotels of Erfoud) but the horns & singing were an aquired taste…

Patrick. Stood on a makeshift plinth instead of the usual Land Rover and delivered us in as many words as possible and through a translator the challenges that faced and the difficulty they had in simply ensuring there was a race. This seemed to go on for a long time, something we had to get used too! Old Paddy loves his speeches.

It was pleasant to hear the GBR crowd give my far the greatest cheer when the participating countries were listed, though hats off to the Kuwait contingent who made a lot of noise for a such a small group!

After lunch another storm and much talking from Patrick Bauer they ferried us back to the Salam in Erfoud know finally that we were to be off tomorrow morning, albeit with a lot of unknowns. Such as the route …

With not a lot of news, and to be fair I am sure there was nothing concrete to pass on, the organisation informed us there would be an update at around 2-4pm. Much of the contingent decided that the best thing to do was have a good wander around Erfoud itself and see the sights.
As is often the want of many of the general populous in countries like Morocco wanted to sell us top quality items for best price but like the determined bunch of ultra marathoners like ourselves were not going to be strayed and we each purchased much plastic sheeting. We may not have packed for rain in the first instance but hell we were not going to be caught out twice! Sadly it didn’t really rain again.

After a dip in the pool and an excuse for a game of volleyball later the update finally arrived and boy what a revelation … the first day was curtailed and another announcement would be made at some point.
Finally news came that we were to be ferried to another hotel for admin day (usually carried out at bivouac one) and probably given some more news then….

When we arrived it felt like we were still in the mountains, but alas, this was it and it was getting wetter by the minute. We heard that many of the coaches had not made it this far and were unlikely too with the roads getting cut off with overfilled wadis and cut off roads. After about an hour or so sat on the coaches we bailed into covered army trucks and bounced up and down the few miles into camp.

The scene at camp was worse then I could have imagined and we were told to pick a tent, any tent. With a river running through the middle and many tents under several inches of water and offering all the shelter of a broken sieve, we chose one which fitted the criteria of “not under water” shored it up a little and contemplated a trench. We kept finding slightly better tents and continued to shore them up until the organisers informed us that the press tents were much drier and as the press were not going to make it near the camp we could use those. We found a dry one and waded off for tea which we ate on the bonnet of a land rover.

Finally news came that we were to be evacuated and a cheery Patrick Bauer spoke of hot showers and buffet food aplenty, so after another ball crushing ride in an army truck we were bailed into the Hotel Salem in downtown Erfoud for food, beer and a warm bed … the saga had just begun.

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