Patagonman – The Extreme Triathlon at the End of the World

Background

Patagonman is a point-to-point ironman distance race – cold water (10-13 degrees) sea swim – 3.8k, cycle 177k – 2700m elevation and gravel sections, 43k trail run – 1000m elevation. It is held in Patagonia, Chile, a seriously remote part of the world. Entries are limited to 300, of which only about 165 make it to the start line. You are required to provide your own supporter who helps you as the race is self supported. Their roles include: warming you up and helping you change in transition; nutrition and support on the bike; meet you at 30k into the run; and finally carry you home at the end.

It is called the extreme triathlon at the end of the world, and it is correctly named. Going into this I viewed it as the ultimate challenge and not one I was taking lightly.

The Race

The day started at 2:30 with plenty of nerves and a basic breakfast at the hotel. Then the cold, dark walk down to transition with my parents (support crew), bike and equipment.

When you have a supporter in transition, set up is really quick, as it’s a case of rack your bike and they have everything else. This meant I was ready ahead of schedule and there wasn’t much to do apart from start putting my layers on. Trisuit, thermal vest with hood, thermal boots, thermal wetsuit, thermal gloves, and thermal hood. This might seem like overkill but when swimming in 8-degree water in Canada I was unable to get my face in the water, so overkill sounded good to me! Additionally, while the water was meant to be 10-13 degrees, due to a cold spring and snow the two previous days it was a balmy 8.3 degrees. This would result in the swim being shortened but we didn’t know that yet.

Long before the first signs of dawn appeared and we could start to see the snow-capped mountains surrounding the fjord we boarded the ferry, 4am. I left my parents on the dock and started the adventure I had been building towards for a year.

It had been made very clear at the briefing that once aboard there was no getting off. This is a wild race, so they keep very close track of everyone. Additionally, the ferry doesn’t return to town so once you’re on, you swim. No cold feet allowed!

What is allowed and became a problem was actual cold feet. The air temp was 3/4 and the metal of the ferry underfoot, even in boots, was really cold. There wasn’t anywhere to stay warm, and it became a case of huddle together like penguins. I kept moving around as I could feel the nerves and was trying to stay warm. At one point we were dragged out of the slight shelter/warmth of the engine room to lie down for a photo which I didn’t really appreciate.

Eventually we were informed the swim had been shortened to 2km. My reaction was relief. I knew if I got out the water, I would probably have a good day but was genuinely concerned about the water following my Canadian experience.

The announcement was followed by turning on the water cannons spraying sea water. I had been advised getting a good soak was essential to acclimatise but it didn’t make it any more pleasant. In between soakings I would do a few loops of the boat to try and keep warm and the body moving. For some reason there seemed to be a long delay in starting and some people were clearly cold. I was doing ok despite the temperature and nervous energy everywhere you looked.

Finally, it was time to go, and they were not messing around. The organisers were hustling and encouraging people in. Understandably I think they wanted people in the water for as little time as possible. A few people paused, they had warned us if you hesitated you would be pushed. I don’t think they were serious, but no one was waiting to find out.

I approached the edge, and the jump was a lot higher than expected. I waited for a gap in the water to clear and off I went. Splash! Given the height I went deep but was surprised my face felt fine. I came up and swam to the start hoping it wouldn’t take long to get going.

The ferry horn blasted and off we went. There was about 200m to the naval vessel we had to round before returning to shore. I felt good and was in the perfect spot at the back of the front group. We rounded the ship, and I could see some police flashing lights at the exit to sight off.

Shortly after the turn my swim buoy strap started slipping down my body. Each time it went over my hips I had to try and pull it back up. After 4 attempts I stopped and tried to adjust the straps, but this was impossible with gloves on, so I set off again. The final time I stopped, unclipped it from around my waste, and clipped it over one shoulder under the other. Round the neck which I am sure health and safety would not approve but it worked a charm. (see below)

I had lost the lead group but still felt good and was toasty, almost too warm. I came in perfectly and is probably my straightest swim to date. As I stood up the I got tangled in the ropes holding the cargo net in place (if low tide we had to climb a wall). This was rather annoying as it was high tide and not needed. But I was over and in to T1 where my mum was waiting to help me undress and dress (for the first time in years!).

The first thing I said was “change to plan C” (trisuit) as I was so warm. My mum told me we didn’t have the plan C option, as we had ruled it out the night before, and it wasn’t as warm as I maybe thought it was. So, I got undressed and warm using my new Zone 3 swim parka (great purchase). I put on my Plan A layers and was on my way.  

I was in no hurry but wanted to keep moving, it was going to be a long day but at least I wasn’t cold. As mentioned, the swim had been my concern, and I knew now as long as nothing major happened I would probably finish which was my only goal. It didn’t feel like it but transition had taken 10mins 24s. Quick pee as wasn’t going to pee on the bike and I was on my way.

As my only goal was to finish and enjoy the day in the process, I planned to start the bike easy and feel fresh at the start of the climbing at 60km. This took a lot of self control as I felt great and had to suppress my racing instincts as bike after bike came cruising past. I could probably have gone with them, but I was keeping my powder dry to get to that finish line.

The first 45k went smoothly where I reached out first agreed stop point. It’s a little challenging spotting your support car as everyone has their cars jumping ahead and waiting. My dad had put on his yellow high vis jacket, rather than the official race orange vest, and this made them easier to spot. I switched my bottle and had a quick race update. They said I was quite far up the field, but I didn’t believe it as I had seen so many people fly past.

On I went to the first climb of the day up to Coyhaique. This was a solid climb, but my legs were good, and I started to overtake a couple of people and hold others as we hit the climbs. A lot of the cyclists appeared to be big stronger guys, once we hit the climbs, I would benefit from my better weight to power ratio. The race dynamic didn’t really suit me as it was for strong solo riders but luckily, I wasn’t racing.

We had been blessed with the weather though. The high passes on the two previous days had seen snow and the rest of the course was wet and cloudy. Today the sun was out so we could enjoy the spectacular scenery. We couldn’t have asked for a better day, even if it wasn’t that warm. The effort on the climbs and reduced wind chill meant I had to lose the gloves and unzip my jacket, but they went straight back on for the descents. The one constant on every day in Patagonia was the wind and yes, again, it was windy. So far, we had had cross or tail winds, but I knew that wouldn’t last.

Through 90km, and the only aid station on the bike course, I was going nicely and feeling good. At about 92km I passed my parents but didn’t stop as I had just stopped and wanted to crack on as things started to get interesting from here. The course more or less climbs for the next 70km and at some point, we would turn in to the wind as well.

At 117k we turned off the main highway and the climb started to develop. I survived some large pothole sections and the few gravel sections that were scattered around the course. Luckily none of these provided any drama for me as I just slowed down, should probably work on my bike handling skills though.

We managed another feed and my parents moved on to 131km. Unfortunately, during this section my issue flared up. Ever since early 2022 I have had an issue of my left foot going numb at about 70k and then painful at 130km. I had a surgery which unfortunately didn’t resolve the issue and is now my reality. Like clockwork at 130km my foot was in agony. I knew I needed to stop but didn’t want to waste a stop not with my support crew. Luckily, as I turned the next corner, there they were up ahead, and I pushed through.

We exchanged bottles and I took on some food as it takes a few minutes for my foot to recover. I knew now it had started I would have to stop again.

This episode coincided with the start of the most grueling part of the course. 15km to the highest summit into a savage headwind. I was in my easiest gear just plugging away to the top but beginning to feel a bit fatigued. I did have more power in my legs but, this was now the 2^nd longest (after Everesting) I had ever spent on a bike. Slowly I was reeling a few people in, but it was torture on the legs and not helped by my foot. To make things worse the idea that any slight downhills would be an opportunity for a rest was dashed by the brutal headwind. I had to pedal downhill to keep moving forward.

But his is what this race is all about and why we sign up…. Suffering in the wild!

At least it wasn’t raining, or snowing! Had we had the weather of the previous days this race would have had a very low finish rate. Wind, rain, cold, nothing to look at, hills, gravel, difficult descents would have taken its toll. As it was it was glorious! For the supporters! Due to the suffering, I did not get to fully appreciate it, but my parents assured me it was!

After what felt like an eternity I rolled over the top of the pass and started the 17km descent into Cerro Castillo. This was the one point where I did take the time to look around as it is one of the most beautiful places I’ve been. The descent was crazy fast on an insane road, but I took what time I could to enjoy the scenery.

Coming in to T2 someone ahead crashed on the speed bumps which was unfortunate. He looked in a bad way but had a few supporters helping him. Me and another athlete slowed, avoided the bumps, and I cruised into an ironman T2 for the first time not feeling battered. Which had been my goal even if the ride had taken a lot longer than planned. (although 21 minutes of the ride had been spent not moving – pit stops and pee breaks)

As with the whole day I took T2 very easy, although this was probably the most relaxed moment (13 mins, one of the slowest of the day). I felt good and the sun was out so why not! Full change and chatted with my parents. I also took the time to chat with the race directors and discuss how beautiful the course was. They assured me the run was going to be even better. I eventually set off and my body felt pretty good.

The first 2km were on the road before we took to the trail. In the first 500m I overtook a couple of people and then eased back as was concerned I was running too fast but about 500m later I realised I was running on feel, and they were running slowly, so picked an effort I felt I could maintain and went for it. (I intentionally had no speed metrics on my watch, only elevation and distance). After 6k of trail the route went up sharply. I ‘chose’ to walk, not sure if it was a choice but I was walking. Hills were going to be walked.

Due to an injury, I hadn’t started running till September and my longest run was 2hrs. Therefore, I knew at some point I was likely going to struggle. I wanted to get as far as I could before that happened, but the hills still had to be walked. By hills I mean mountains!

The course was marked by orange PVC sticks on the way up, the majority of which were easy to follow. I gratefully had the bonus of catching a lot of people so had a stream of athletes to follow.

The next obstacle was a stream/river we had to cross. I believe most people stopped to take off their socks and shoes, there was a guy sat doing exactly that when I arrived. With a flashback to my cross-country days I charged through. This was fun but I was a bit surprised it was nearly waste deep. The bottom was also muddy/sticky and out the other side my socks and shoes were full of debris. I thought this might be an issue but luckily not.

Having overtaken a constant stream of athletes it then became lonely. I just continued following the sticks up the hill! I eventually came across some photographers and an aid station who told me to go straight on the gravel road I had emerged on to.

I was cruising but 1km later I began to worry I had gone wrong. I couldn’t see anyone ahead or behind and hadn’t seen any sign. I kept going but was getting more worried as they had warned us about going wrong. They had mentioned some cattle gates we would have to climb. I had been through some but not over any.

Then in the distance high above me I saw someone walking up a steep hill. My relief that I wasn’t lost was quickly replaced by the reality that I was going to have to climb that hill. A couple of the hills were absolutely brutal and even walking them was savage.

As it turned out the gravel road would take me to the finish and that 5k stretch of not seeing anyone would be the last time I was alone. I was catching people again and moving on up through the field. 15km done and feeling good.

I caught a group and we had to walk a medium hill together. One of the athletes from our hotel offered to take a photo as the views over the lakes with the mountains were mind-blowing. Truly a case of a picture is worth a thousand words. Photo taken it was time to move on again and leave that group behind.

I had a feeling that I was running myself in to a decent position but so many had gone past on the bike. Not that it mattered. I was doing a ridiculous challenge in the most beautiful place on earth.

At 20k I was beginning to suffer and caught up with a guy as we came to a walk on a small hill. We started talking, his name was Oleg and from Russia. At the top of the small hill, we both started running at the same pace and carried on talking.

A mutual friendship broke out and we worked forward together. Our goal was just getting through 10k to where the supporters were waiting at 30k. We would worry about the last 13 once we had done that. He was pulling me along for parts of that 10k as I wasn’t feeding enough, although I didn’t notice at the time.

We arrived at the 30k meeting point via a savage steep downhill section that was enough to finish my legs off. As we came in, I saw my dad walking off to look at the river and my mum wasn’t ready. I figured this wasn’t very good support crew work but as it turns out I wasn’t expected for a long time yet.

There are no timing mats at the race, so it is impossible for supporters to see how athletes are getting on. As my parents waited with the other supporters all they had to go on was the time the athletes who came through left T2. Me running through the field had made this almost impossible to predict.

On arrival they jumped into gear. They figured I was in the top 30. I told them I had no time to stop as I couldn’t lose Oleg, I needed him to drag me to the finish. I scoffed down a KitKat and took a drink and was on my way again.

We were joined by Gustavo, a local guy who was Oleg’s supporter, for the remainder of the run (another perk of this race). He was a great addition although he was a little surprised as to what we considered was a hill and therefore needed to be walked!

The last downhill could have been the final nail in the coffin for the legs but this time the wind came to our rescue. It was such a strong headwind that it slowed us down and took a lot of the impact out of the stride. The downside was it whipped up the dust to the extend I had to run with my head down to protect my eyes.

After the descent we crossed a couple of rivers, stopped for some more photos with a roaring waterfall in the background. Then it was just a flat 5k to the finish.

The wind was now behind us, pushing us along, and the clouds were starting to get darker late in the day. For 20-30k I felt at times I was hanging on to Oleg but now I was doing the pulling, setting the walk and run marks. I would pick a spot to run to and then a spot to walk to then run again etc. We walked past one of our run marks and I mentioned it to Oleg. He said he had noticed but didn’t want to say anything. He was fluent in English, lovely guy, great sense of humour and the perfect person to spend a few hours running through the wilderness with.

After what felt like an age, and had been most of a day, it was time to turn on to the road that would take us to the finish and the infamous bell. As we closed on the finish line, I offered Oleg the bell, but he insisted I go first. We had both gained so much enjoyment and support from the companionship and neither of us cared for the result and just wanted to finish! I know with 100% certainty I would not have finished in such high spirits had I run the last 20km alone.

As I reached for the bell a strong gust came through and blew the rope, so I almost missed but I got it and gave it a strong rattle. I had done it; I had conquered the Patagonian wilderness. I was exhausted but not broken which was the perfect feeling.

As I stumbled forward a race director met me. He greeted me like a long-lost friend, congratulated me and gave me my medal. This is something that puts Patagonman above any race I have ever done. I got to race it with my family but from start to finish you are made to feel like family from the organisers and volunteers. It is a proper family embracing a brutal challenge together and the warmth of the experience is unrivalled.

I made it through the crowd to my parents who had my nice warm coat ready for me. I was tired but functioning which was a nice change from my usual full distance experience. Wrapped up in my swim parka I had two portions of sausage and chips, (slight Spanish translation issue there, but not complaints from me) and chatted with the other athletes and support crews. One of the many great things about this race is the support crews get to know each other as well. They get to share their experience and can debrief with other supporters and athletes. They are fully involve which is a nice change from it being all about the athlete.

Despite my parka, sitting on the ground in the ever-increasing wind by a lake with darkening clouds rolling in, it was starting to get cold. With a 90-minute drive back to Coyhaique we decided it was time to get going. As we walked to the car it became clear that in not very long the temperature would cool off drastically and with the wind would make it brutal to still be out there. I felt for the athletes and support running, and just hoped they all had it under control.

In town, we grabbed a steak, a much-needed beer, and a very well deserved-bed! I fell asleep easily knowing this would be day I will never forget and probably one of the highlights of my life.

Positions and times didn’t matter to me but here they are the facts and figures with a quick summary:

• 28th overall, 25th male, 1st Canadian (entry a bit confused), 3rd Brit. 170 started, 157 finished.
• Swim 32:49 (22nd overall), Bike 7:22:06 (67th overall), Run 4:42:03 (18th overall). Combined transition time 23:48 (aka too long). Overall time 13:00:40.

All in all, I was very happy. Could I have gone faster? Yes, without question. Do I wish I had gone harder? No, not at all. I finished happy and not broken while executing a steady race. Do I wish I had gone 41s quicker to get under 13 hrs? Yes 100%. I left so much time out there chatting to people that it would have been easy. I didn’t time my overall time so that is the risk you take.

The main challenge/takeaway from this is race is what the hell do I do next? I can’t imagine a more perfect race experience from: parents as support, insane weather (good and bad), beautiful scenery, challenging course, athlete and support comradery and the most welcoming and friendly race organisers in the world.

It really was the most beautiful extreme triathlon at the end of the world!