Quenching the thirst for adventure

One reporter’s quest for the ultimate test of endurance

Part 1

 It’s 3:39 a.m. Thursday, May 29. I glance around my dimly-lit room and out the window into the empty yellow glow of the Polson streets. Ugh. 

My mind has been racing non-stop since 7 a.m. Wednesday when I woke to my cell phone buzzing relentlessly in my left ear. First instinct — it’s Laurie calling to wake me up because there was an accident somewhere on Highway 93. My rusty “hello” initiated the soft voice of my friend Bruce, an experienced expedition adventure racer who I raced with last fall when I lived in Philadelphia and participated regularly in 20 to 50 mile (six to 24-hour) adventure races. I immediately felt my heart skip a beat. 

A man of few words and only the important ones, Bruce said, “Hey Ali, how are you? Uh, how would you like to race Primal Quest with us?” 

“Pffff,” I spat as my heart immediately sunk about a foot into my gut. “You must be joking, right?” 

He wasn’t. Apparently, his team’s mandatory female competitor had just “called out sick” and the team was in a real bind, needing to find a replacement girl, or not race. 

Primal Quest is the Superbowl of my sport. Since Mark Burnett first put expedition adventure racing onto the international stage with his production, Eco Challenge in 1995, ultra-endurance events have been steadily gaining in popularity. Primal Quest was born after Burnett stopped directing Eco Challenge to concentrate time and money into his new hit reality TV show, Survivor. 

A 500-plus-mile race through the wilderness surrounding Big Sky, Primal Quest 2008 is not the kind of race you sign on to do just one month in advance. In fact, it’s not the kind of race you sign up for at all — unless you suffer from a severe lack of sanity, or have nothing else to do with the roughly $3,100 per person it costs just to enter. 

Adventure racing attracts a special breed. We like to run, bike, kayak, climb and swim. A general hodgepodge of indecision, an adventure race incorporates all and more of those disciplines, but in no particular order or standard distance for each. 

An adventure race is a journey from point “A” to point “B” on a map, over and over again until all points are gathered, or as many as can be found in the allotted time. Co-ed teams of four must navigate their way over mountains, through deep brush, across rivers — day and night — non-stop, while carrying all food, water and gear necessary to complete the required leg in backpacks often weighing more than 30 pounds. 

Race directors have complete liberty when they design a course. They must provide a safe and enjoyable experience for racers, but they must do so within the limits of their locale. For example, most races include some sort of boating, but whether it’s whitewater rafting or sea-kayaking is dependent on where in the world the race takes place. Nobody marks the course with spray paint or lines of chalk and racers are often more likely to encounter wild animals than event staff or cheering spectators while en-route. 

No, adventure racing is not a sport for the weak of body or mind— and Primal Quest is no exception. 

The details of this year’s course will be kept secret until the night before when racers receive their race packets, maps and a list of UTM coordinates to plot. However, race management has been kind enough to divulge a few secrets— “500 miles of travel over very arduous terrain, and 100,000 vertical feet of elevation gain” a letter to racers states. 

“In Primal Quest Montana you can expect to climb over 100,000 feet (Everest x 3), you will paddle and swim in big white water and you will perform world-class mountain navigation.  The pain and the suffering you will encounter will be made even more rewarding by the never-ending 360 degree vistas of absolutely beautiful, rugged and remote terrain.” 

During the 10 days it took to initially plan the route, course designers said they had some very unique experiences. “We followed mountain goats for miles across a knife-edged ridge line; watched an eagle catch a fish in his talons; saw mountain lion tracks in the snow just as the sun was setting; viewed a moose walking just a stone throw away and not giving us a second glance; and observed grizzly bear warning signs at every trail head,” another letter states. “This course will require each team to pull together all of its collective resources to successfully reach the finish line.” 

Registration for the event sold out in less than one hour’s time on July 1, 2007 when it opened online at midnight. Racers (or their sponsors) shelled out thousands for entry fees, hundreds more in plane tickets, support vehicle rentals, pre and post race lodging as well as food and the endless pages of mandatory gear required to compete. Not only do racers need to be dumb enough to sign up, but they must be smart enough and knowledgeable enough in the aforementioned disciplines to pass strict certifications of ability. 

So, it’s now 4:39 a.m. and my mind is — quite understandably — still racing. 

I check the PQ website for the 395th time today and watch the seconds tick by… 23 days, six hours, 17 minutes and 53… 52… 51… seconds till my epic journey begins.

Stay tuned.