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My First Time as a Coast to Coast Competitor

Firstly I would like to give you a little bit of background leading up to my first attempt at the Coast to Coast Multi-sport Event, which is held in the South Island of New Zealand early in February every year. The race itself, was the brain child of Robin Judkins, or (Juddy) as he affectionately known.

In 1987 my first marriage broke up. I was not in the best of spaces as I struggled with the break up for a few years. Also, early in 1988, I damaged my cruciate ligament and had to have surgery on my knee to repair it. All together I was in bit of a state.

In 1991 my brother, Keith, seconded a friend of ours, Phil, who was doing the Coast to Coast event. At this time I was starting to sort out my life again and the most important thing to me was the care of my three children on my days off from the Fire Service.

So here I am, sitting at home when Keith rushes in and announces that next year he and I were going to do the Coast to Coast as a team. “What is the Coast to Coast” I asked him. It is a multi-sport event which crosses the South Island of New Zealand from Kumara Beach on the West Coast to Sumner Beach on the East coast covering about 243 kilometres by cycling, running and kayaking. Oh and by the way there is a mountain range in the way which you have to run over. Though that’s all right, I will do the run leg as you have the problem with your knee. That means you, (me), will have to learn to kayak, to at least grade two, and get good at cycling and bunch riding.

All of this was way above me at the time, grade two?, bunch riding?, what did all of this mean? “No way mate” was my immediate reply, I’m to busy with work and the kids, find someone else.

Keith was so impressed with his time as Phil’s second, his enthusiasm was hard to keep down. The next thing I know, he rang me up saying I had to have a cheque to him by next week for my share of the entry fee for the race. It was almost June and I had forgotten about the idea of doing any race. Keith, as only he can, forged ahead and arrived at my place with an entry form, saying, “fill this out and send it away”.

A little away here, We put in our entries, they returned some time later with the wrong names on them. I was Jacques O’Keefe and Keith was Jacques Malcolm. We rang them about the mix up and they said they would send out new ones to us. The new ones were no better, as we ended up as the O’Keefe brothers. On the phone again and this time things were sorted and our proper names were on the list. So, on the day of the race we and all of our seconds wore a bright Pink T-shirt with a large black question mark on the back and on the front we asked the question “Has anyone seen those O’Keefe brothers”. We thought it was funny at the time.

After the entry saga Keith rang me to tell me he had arranged for me to have kayaking lessons with a friend of his, Dave. I was trapped, no way out, so what the heck, we can always pull out at a later date. Next week came along and sure enough I had a phone call from this stranger, Dave. He arranged a time for me to meet him at the estuary to have my first kayak lesson. You would not believe me if I told you how many times I tried to just sit in that darn boat to get some balance. Never in a million years would I be able to do this I cried. Dave was made of sterner stuff and he persisted with me over the next few weeks. Somehow or other I was finally managing to say afloat, though not for to long, and I graduated to more deep water. Bad mistake! The next two months were ones of more underwater than above. Dave taught me how to “wet exit” which was the one thing I did become good at, and slowly, ever so slowly I triumphed at the art of kayaking.

I kept up this gruelling training, learnt a lot of different paddle strokes and was soon let loose upon the Avon River proper. For those of you who do not know the Avon River in Christchurch, there is not a more placid piece of water any where in the world, not even your swimming pool. On my first solo outing, I was marvelling at my new found ability and cruising down the river, when on my right a couple of dogs decided to have a swim. No big event in the overall scheme of things, though it did take my attention away from the paddling and the next minute I was struggling to keep myself, my paddle and the boat together and be able to find a place where I could swim to, to get out of the water and drain the boat. Not a very successful first attempt.

Though gradually I became better and Keith arranged for me to have my first down river training, on a real river, Help! Another friend of Keith’s called Graham, turned up and said he was going to take me on a trip down the Waiau River, on a stretch about 12 kilometres long which had a few rapids and some good running water. Graham was a very good paddler and a good teacher. With this more in-depth training, included with the skills I had learnt from Dave , I felt the art of kayaking was starting to settle into me, even though I was not the best of pupils.

While all of this was going on, I had to buy a road bike, learn how to ride it, peddle it on the roads for many a kilometre, suffer a very sore rear end and learn how to ride in a bunch. Think of the “Tour De France” with a total amateur included, funny as. Bunch riding on a bicycle is not for the faint hearted. They yell at you, constantly, push you, tell you who your parents were, according to them and lots more besides. In fact it is really scary stuff the first ten or twelve times. The people I rode with were much better than I ever will be on a bike, they were very patient and over all very kind to me. Over the weeks I learnt a lot of valuable lessons and now I felt all I needed was a load of kilometres under my belt.

But who had time for cycling when the hardest part of the race, for me, was going to be the paddle leg of 67 kilometres down the Waimakariri River, from Mt. White’s Bridge to the Waimak Gorge Bridge, with 25 kilometres through the Waimak Gorge itself, which is mostly grade two paddling. Late November maybe early December my skills were starting to improve, so Keith arranged for me to go with another bunch of his friends for a trip down the Waimakariri River on the exact stretch of river we would use on race day. This trip, to this day, was one of the most scary yet exhilarating trips of my life. Since this first trip I must have been down the same piece of river over 20 times, though this first time was the most memorable.

We set off about 5am and drove to Mt. White’s Bridge, and set up the boats. There were five of us and of course the other four guys were all GOOD paddlers. They looked after me on the way down river, each of them coming close to me a one time or another giving hints and tips on how to improve my technique and how to handle different types of water. It was a marvellous, invigorating trip, the river was running at about 100 cumecs and I loved every minute of the day. Meanwhile I was still doing a small amount of time on the bike, as the bike leg I was doing was only 55 kilometres long on mostly undulating roads.

Finally the great day came and we set off. There was Keith, myself, our Mum and Dad who were going to be our seconds, two bikes, a kayak, tent, sleeping bags, clothes, food and other assorted equipment. We were off to do our first two day teams Coast to Coast and would you believe it, for this weekend there would be the worst conditions for about ten years.

We arrived at Kumara on Thursday just after midday. We set up our camp at the local racecourse with the hundreds of other competitors, registered with all the right people and acquired all of our official stickers, bibs and different goodies from the events sponsors. Back at the tent, with the help of our support team, (Mum & Dad), we attached the stickers to the supporters car and the kayak. We got everything ready for the next morning then headed off back to the Kumara Community Hall for a fabulous meal, which is put on by the locals as a fundraising event for the whole town, and then Juddy gives his infamous pre race talk. The man is a born comic and it is a very entertaining introduction to the dos and don’ts of the event. His fellow conspirator, Steve Gurney, has a say about another way of bending the race rules which is discarded by Juddy. A great evening out is had by all. Now back to the tent and sleep.

Race day is here at last. I have to walk my bike down to its station and walk from there down to the Kumara Beach for the start of the race. My team mate and the support crew are off to the first transition stage at the Deception River. Its raining steadily now and it is still dark and uncomfortable. We line up in numerical order so we can be counted off then with the assistance of an air horn Juddy starts the race.

All competitors from the two day individual and teams events take off on the run up to the bikes. Once at the bikes it’s mount up and away. A mass emergence of bodies and bikes struggling to get a position so as to be in the first bunches which makes the race a lot easier. I am a little behind the main rush and manage to get into a small bunch of about ten or so riders. We set off and it’s a mainly uneventful first ride to the Deception transition. The rain is still coming down and I was glad to get off the bike. My brother Keith took off on the mountain run over Goats Pass, totally unaware of the problems ahead. I changed into some dry cloths and with the support team drove off to Klondyke Corner the next transition point and the camping spot for the over night stay after day one.

All this time the weather was getting worst. On the run, which is a mountain run, the rivers and streams were starting to fill up quickly. At some point into the afternoon it was decided to stop further competitors from entering the run, as it was starting to get dangerous. For the people already on the run, things just got worse. The earlier competitors managed to get through before the conditions got too bad, but the middle group, of whom Keith was one, things were becoming a concern. Amazingly enough about twelve hours later everyone was accounted for and safe at the camping area. Helicopters had been used to extract some competitors and others just managed to scramble through.

The rain was getting worse and the river was building up. Later that night, as we were in the tent, you could here the river rolling rocks and trees down its path and the noise was thunderous. We also managed to park our tent by the landing site of the helicopters, bad mistake, and it was very nearly blown away. Though we did managed to make it through a most uncomfortable night. Next morning Juddy called a meeting of the competitors and explained the river was now running at about 600 cumecs and the paddle leg was now officially cancelled. This now made the One Day event a biathlon. In my heart I was pleased to hear the paddle was cancelled as I was not sure if I would have been able to drag up the courage to enter the river as it was. But, and there was a big BUT. I now had to cycle from Klondyke Corner to Sheffield, where they had set up a temporary transition. As I had not done much cycle training I knew I would struggle.

Of course it was still raining and the wind chill was about -5 degrees, very cold to say the least. I put on two lots of thermals a beanie hat under my helmet and anything thing else I could scrounge, borrow or steal. I lost count of how many large hill climbs there were that day, though I am sure I walked up most of them. At the top of Porters Pass, the highest point on the route, I had a photograph taken of me and to this day I still look frozen stiff. At any rate I finally made it into Sheffield, almost the last person I am sure. My brother was waiting for me and asked for something we were sharing from the bike. My response was for him to take the whole bloody bike and I threw it at him. I was not in the best of moods as you can guess.

Mum and dad came over with a hot drink for me and a towel and we headed back to the car which was parked in the temporary car park about a kilometre away in an open field. I changed my cloths, which helped tremendously and we put the bike onto the rack. Jumped into the car, and yes, it would not turn over. A walk back to Sheffield and at the local garage we found some help. After a while the diagnosis was a dead battery. We bought a new one, had it fitted and finally on our way to Sumner.

Keith, meanwhile, was biking his heart out and managed to overtake a few people on his way in. We made it to the finish line in time to see him cross and be handed a beer by Juddy, who makes the attempt to welcome everyone home at the end of each section, every year, a great effort by him, a real winner. We packed up Keith’s bike and got him back to the car and a change of cloths. We gave each other a big hug and said we were glad that was over. After going home to change and a warm up we all went back to Sumner and met a local restaurant with our partners and support team to have a wonderful celebratory meal.

Believe it or not I entered for the next Coast to Coast as an individual two day competitor. This way I would, hopefully, get to the finish lines on both days and I would get the beer! … but that’s another story.

Now visit  http://www.daysoff.ws if you want to that is.

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