A Coast to Coast Race Across Costa Rica
It was 1997 when I
first heard about La Ruta. At that time it was a relatively unknown race, three
days of mountain biking through the mountains of Costa Rica
A few years later
I met few people who had completed the event. They spoke of the great scenery
and fantastic mountain biking. The unrealistic dream gained status and was
upgraded to an idea.
On two separate
occasions after that, I actually priced out the entire trip to see what would
be involved. On both occasions I dismissed the idea as too expensive.
2005 came along
and I knew that I needed a change from 24 hour racing. I logged onto the La
Ruta web site once again and found myself entering the race and booking a plane
ticket. The dream had become a reality.
The web site
states that this is the most difficult mountain bike race on the planet. I was
about to find out if this was true.
As I researched
the event, I realized that this would be a climbing race more than anything
else. The ability to climb and tolerate heat would be key attributes for
success. There are no long hills where I live and it would be about -10 C
before leaving so I knew that I was going into this at a bit of a disadvantage.
“It is mind over matter,” I thought.
Arrival
I met up with some
racers at the airport and we waded through the maze of contraband taxis to find
our shuttle to the Don Fadrique hotel, one of the sponsor hotels of the race.
It was a very nice place in the capital city, San Jose
We loaded a bus
for the Pacific Coast
First we waited on
the bus for about an hour before they let us in the driveway. They handed out
bracelets to everyone which I still have no idea who I was supposed to show it
to. We eventually got off the bus and lined up to check into the hotel. After
checking into the hotel we were told that we would have to come back in two
hours to get the key because the rooms were not ready. Next we lined up to get
into the restaurant for some lunch and then we lined up to register for the
race. This line was particularly long and slow which seemed unusual to me since
this race has been going for quite a while so they should have this type of
stuff sorted out by now. Anyway, I eventually got through the registration line
and entered the second hotel check-in line so that I could get my room key. I
got the room key, found my bike and went in search of my room. This took
another hour since nothing at the hotel was labelled (nothing in Costa Rica
What was supposed
to be a relaxing afternoon had turned into an afternoon of standing in lines.
By the time that I got in my room, I had time to have a shower and head off to
the 6:00pm pre-race meeting. This started late and gave little information that
was not on the web site but I stayed with the hope that there would be some
information given about the logistics of the next morning. When the Q&A
part of the meeting started, we got some information.
“How do we get all
of our stuff from the hotel room to the registration desk so that it can be
transferred to the finish line since the hotel is spread out over several kilometres?”
They had not
thought of that but they came up with the idea that a bus would be around at
4:15am to pick up 400 bags simultaneously. Great plan. Good thing I packed
light.
“Breakfast opens
at 5:00am but the race starts at 5:15am. That doesn’t seem like enough time to
feed everyone?”
They hadn’t
thought of that either. They said that they would see what they could do about
having breakfast earlier. Great plan. Good thing that I brought lots of oatmeal
bars.
I went to bed a
bit disappointed with the organization of the race so far but looking forward
to the day of racing that was about to arrive.
Day 1
Breakfast did open
early and as usual the coffee was fantastic. After my third cup I was revved up
and ready to go. We started ten or fifteen minutes behind schedule which didn’t
seem like a big deal since it was still dark outside.
After a few kilometres
of pavement, the road pointed up and continued to be steep up and down until
the first check point. I arrived at the first check point at 7:30am well ahead
of the 8:15 cut off time. Everything was going well. We passed kids walking to
school but I couldn’t figure out where they were coming from. It seemed like we
were in the middle of the jungle in the middle of no where and a kid would pop
out with a finely pressed school uniform on. Where did they come from and how
far did they have to walk?
The section
between check point 1 and 2 was reported to be very muddy. It did not
disappoint. The mud was so thick that we had to carry our bikes both up and
down the hills. The mud stuck to the tires and plugged up the frame so that the
wheels would not even turn. Disk brakes are a real advantage in this stuff but
even people with disks were having trouble. I completely disconnected my front
brake to give more clearance. It didn’t matter since I was walking anyway.
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Caked in mud half way through
Day 1
The mud eventually
ended and the second check point arrived at 11:00am, still well ahead of the
12:00 noon cut off. I decided in advance to really take easy on the first day
since I had not yet adjusted to the heat and this was the day with the most
climbing, 15,000 vertical ft over a distance of 110 k. At the second check
point I refilled my hydration pack, applied more sunscreen and had some food.
All was well.
The route to check
point 3 was mostly climbing but the terrain was easy with very little mud. I
arrived at 12:30, still an hour ahead of the 1:30 cut off. Everything was on
track and I continued my strategy of riding conservatively.
There was more
climbing to checkpoint four but it was no harder than what we had already done.
I was expecting to arrive at the fourth check point by about 2:15 since the cut
off was 3:15 and I was pretty consistently one hour ahead of the cut off at
each check point.
2:15 came and went
with no sign of a check point or the top of the hill. I started riding harder.
3:00 came and I
was really getting worried, as were the people that I was riding with. We
started thinking that we may have gone past the check point without realizing
it. We all started riding really hard to make the cut off.
3:15 came and I
knew that I was out of the race. I slowed down and tried to recover from the
hard effort over the past hour.
At about 3:25 I
rolled into the checkpoint expecting to be pulled from the race. What I found
instead was that the checkpoint was still open and I was allowed to continue. I
forgot that the race started late so that pushed the times back for all of the
checkpoints.
I was given a
second chance but I also knew that I was in trouble. The cut off times had
lulled me into a false sense of security and now it would be a real struggle to
make it to the finish line before it closed. No more riding conservatively!
I hammered as hard
as I could after the fourth check point. I knew that it was now or never. The
harder I went, the better I felt. I seemed to be gliding up the hills.
Everything was easy. I eventually got into a pack with three Costa Ricans and
two guys from the US
As it got darker
we entered a small town but it never slowed us down at all. The Costa Ricans
took the front now since this was their home turf. Under complete darkness and buses
coming from both directions we snaked our way through the streets. I knew this
was dangerous but I was having way too much fun.
The finish came
into view and appeared to be still open. After almost twelve hours of biking,
we crossed the finish line and they told us that we had made it. That was
close. I would have to be more careful about the check point times tomorrow.
The hard effort
took its toll on me. I needed food and water badly. The finish line area was
pure chaos. 200 – 300 people walking around in the rain, in the dark, in the
mud, wondering what to do next, and no one in charge. After asking several
people, I eventually found out where the food area was and went there, only to
find out that it had closed several hours ago. I guess that they fed the first
few people that crossed the finish line and then packed and went home.
I looked for a
hose to wash my bike but that was gone too. This was a problem since my bike
really needed some TLC before another day of racing. I eventually discovered
that there was a truck that we were supposed to put our bikes on. The bikes
would stay on the truck overnight and be delivered to the start line the next
day. So much for TLC. I put my bike on the truck and hoped to see it again.
After some more
staggering around in the dark, I discovered that there were buses with the name
of the hotel that it was going to. There was also another list with everyone’s
name on it and what hotel they were staying in. Since it was raining and the
list was made of paper, it was rapidly deteriorating so you had to find your
name before it disappeared. The list was also in random order so finding your
name was not easy.
I found my name
and saw that I was staying in a hotel called Irazu. Unfortunately, no buses had
that name on them. So, I staggered around in the dark some more asking people
if they had seen a bus with the name Irazu on it. No one had but while doing
this, I found out that Irazu was actually the Best Western Hotel. I went back
to the buses, found mine, found a seat and collapsed into it.
I still needed
food and water but there was none so I tried to sleep on the bus ride to the
hotel. Impossible. It took about two hours to get to the hotel and by the time
that I got there I was really feeling ill from the lack of food. I had bonked.
I felt so sick that I couldn’t eat now. I checked in, threw all of my wet,
muddy clothes in the corner, had a shower, and went to bed immediately.
I couldn’t imagine
how I would possibly be able to ride the next day.
Day 2 - Broken bones, stitches, people sleeping in the
hotel lobby, theft.
I woke at 4:30am
and felt like crap, but significantly better than the night before. I put the
wet muddy mess in the corner into a plastic bag and put on my spare biking
closes that I had not intended to use.
Breakfast opened
at 5:00am and the bus to the race start left at 5:15am so we had to eat
quickly. I arrived at breakfast to find out that it was a sit down meal. There
were around 200 racers staying at this hotel. It seemed unrealistic to expect
to be able to feed all of these people in 15 minutes. I wasn’t concerned
really. I had come to except that things did not really run on schedule in Costa Rica
I ate breakfast
with three others racers who seemed to be having problems of their own. One
guy’s bike had not made it so he was riding a borrowed bike that was too small.
He barely finished the first day. Another guy got to one of the cut offs after
it had closed and had to wait for hours for a ride. The guy sitting beside me
summed it up best, “Coming here was a really bad idea.” None of us could
believe how poorly organized the race was so far.
We each had a
voucher for a free breakfast but it was grossly inadequate. We ordered three
breakfasts each and had a hard time convincing the waiter that we really wanted
that much. After my second breakfast and third wonderful cup of coffee I
started to feel significantly better, almost normal, almost ready to ride.
During the bus
ride to the start line, I heard some stories from the first day. Over 100
people were eliminated from the race because they arrived at checkpoints after
the checkpoints had closed. Those people were bussed to the finish line which
was part of the reason that the finish area was so chaotic. Some people’s
rented vehicles were broken into and all passports, money, and credit cards
were stolen. Other people were pick pocketed while walking in the city, all
credit cards, cash, and passports stolen. My problems paled in comparison.
I eventually made
it to the start line and found my bike in exactly the condition that I had left
it; completely cake in mud. A bit of lube on the chain and derailleur and I
declared it ready to go. With 10 minutes until the start and no hose, there was
little more that I could do. A guy that I met on the first day was there so I
helped him make some adjustments to his derailleur. He was badly scraped up,
open wounds from head to toe. He went down hard on a metal bridge at the
beginning of the first day. He had severe road rash and his derailleur snapped
right off his bike. He bought a derailleur from a bike mechanic who was driving
by but it wouldn’t shift properly. We got it working reasonably well and I
realized again that my problems paled in comparison.
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Bill’s bike just before the
start of Day 2
We started the day
an hour behind schedule. A Police escort took us out of San Jose
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I got to the top
of the volcano by about noon and the guy at the checkpoint told me that it was
all down hill from there. He also said to be very careful because the descent
was quite technical. He was right; it was so technical in places that I had to
walk my bike down the hill. I set my suspension as soft as it would go but
after more than an hour of rough down hill I started wishing this would end. It
was nice to be going down but when it is this rough, everything hurts.
Eventually, the rough downhill turned into smooth, scary fast downhill. I was
just thinking, “Crashing now would not be good”, when I came around a corner
and saw an ambulance scraping someone off the road. His race was over.
I crossed the
finish line after 10 hours of biking and felt happy to be alive. I thoroughly
enjoyed the day. I found out that the guy in the ambulance had a broken arm.
By now I expected
finish line chaos but it was not as bad as the first day. There was a hose so I
washed my bike! I found the truck to put my bike in with little difficulty and
the finish line meal was still available. Unfortunately, it didn’t even qualify
it as a snack. Calling it a meal was just wrong. Hopefully the hotel would have
some food.
I found my hotel
on the random name list and found the bus that was going there. It was only
about a twenty minute bus ride to the hotel so by 5:00pm I was in my room.
Others were not doing as well. Three people were asleep in the hotel lobby.
They found their names on the random name list, found the bus to the hotel, but
the hotel did not have their names and the hotel was full. I think that they
slept there all night.
Another guy who
was staying at our hotel crashed near the finish and took a taxi to the
hospital to get stitches. He waited until 1:00am, gave up, and used tape to
glue himself back together. Not good.
I had a massive
meal at the hotel that evening. It was so nice to finally have a full belly. At
2:00am I woke up with hunger pains. I guess that my massive meal was not
enough.
Day 3
The bus was
supposed to pick us up at the hotel at 5:30am. I didn’t even bother to get out
of bed until 5:45, had a leisurely breakfast, and still waited for half an hour
before the bus showed up.
I took the bus to the
start and, after about 20 minutes of searching, found my bike lying in a ditch.
The morning was hot and sunny with clear skies in every direction. This is not
a good thing when you are from Canada
I was concerned
about the fact that no results had been posted from the first and second day.
I’ve been participating in multi day amateur racing all over North
America for the past twelve years. There have only been a couple
of occasions that the results were not immediately available after each day. On
each of these occasions it meant only one thing, the results were being
manipulated to suit the agenda of the race organizer. Protests are
significantly reduced when everyone has left the country before the results are
known. I hoped that this was not the case here.
Results for bike
races are not complicated. There are no split times to calculate, no
complicated handicap formulas, and very few, if any, penalty adjustments. I’ve
been in events with thousands of participants where results were posted within
one or two hours of the finish of the event. To have nothing posted after two
days was very suspicious and troubling.
As the start
approached, I put the results issue out of my head and focused on the task at
hand, completing La Ruta.
We took off 45
minutes behind schedule and the climbing started pretty much right away. Today
would be the easiest day of the three though. 126 k, only 6000 ft of climbing
and the last 60 k were basically flat. I made it through the uphill and started
down a section of off road downhill like I have never experienced before. The
decline was steep enough that I did not have to pedal but not so steep that I
had to apply the brakes. All that I had to do was steer the bike. This decline
went on for quite while. At the bottom I found myself wishing that I could go
to the top and do it again. It was so much fun.
The steep off road
hills turned into paved rolling hills which is really my kind of terrain. I was
all alone making good time when a Costa Rican rider caught up to me. He wanted
to ride together and I agreed since two people can go much faster than one when
road riding. He was quite a bit stronger than me so after few rotations I told
him to go ahead but he wanted to stay together. He believed that the two of us
together were still faster than he would be alone. After about 15 minutes we
caught another pace line of three. They joined us and we became five. Now we
were flying with each person taking a one minute pull at the front. We started
reeling in people one after another, sometimes individuals, and sometimes in
groups. Some would join our group, some would let us go. At one point we were
as big as twelve but usually only eight.
It was the most
organized pace line that I have ever been in. Not bad for a bunch of mountain
bikers! One guy in our group seemed fairly experienced at this type of riding
so he kept us all in line, giving tips to those who had never ridden this way
before. Every single person took their turn at the front and worked hard. I was
having a ball.
We rode like this
all the way to the checkpoint. I was completely out of water when we got there.
Good thing that it came when it did.
After the check
point, the route became completely flat and entered a rail bed. We bounced
along the rail bed for what seemed like hours. Thank goodness for full
suspension.
Eventually, an
opening in the jungle came into view. It was the ocean! We made it to the
Atlantic coast.
After about eight
hours of biking, I crossed the finish line feeling great, elated to have
completed the event. (This was tapered with bitter disappointment when I
arrived home to find out that the organizers had lost my time for both the
first and second day. As you would expect by now, my email inquiries regarding
my times for the first and second day went unanswered. Did I DNF? I’m still not
sure.)
At the finish,
there were people with a pressure washer connected to the only hose and they
were charging to wash people’s bikes. I got in line since I knew that I could
not get back into Canada
The race organizer
saw his point and agreed to wash his bike for free. I piggy backed and said
that I was in exactly the same situation. Two minutes later my bike was
spotless.
I found the food
tent and, as expected, it wasn’t even a snack. A beer tent kept my appetite at
bay. There were showers available at the finish line so I stood in line and got
myself clean. By now I had become very aware of the constant threat of theft
lurking whenever the opportunity was provided. My passport and money took a
shower with me.
Awards were given
out for the top finishers and I was given my official finishers medal which
everyone who completes the three days receives.
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Day 3 – Finish Line
Just when we
thought the adventure was over, we loaded the buses for the three hour drive
back to San Jose
We survived the
journey and I checked into the Don Fadrique Hotel at 10:00pm. I was so hungry.
The Hotel clerk ordered me a medium meat lover’s pizza from Dominos. I ate the
whole thing.
Final Thoughts
I feel lucky to
have completed the race with my bike in one piece, nothing stolen, and no
injuries. Many others did not fair so well.
Is this the most
difficult race on the planet? Definitely not. The biking was mostly
non-technical and the climbing volume was similar to most twenty four hour
races. The race is not even in the same difficulty league as the Alaska Ultra
Sport (350 miles along the Iditarod Trail in the middle of winter). In La Ruta,
if you stop between check points to rest, you recover and keep going. In Alaska
Do I regret going?
Absolutely not. Will I go again? Absolutely not. I checked La Ruta off my “To
Do” list and added it to my “Don’t Do That Again” list. The biking part of La
Ruta was great. The off bike organization was not. It takes a really bad race
to fully appreciate the really good ones. I’m happy to say that I have now experienced
both.
I arrived at the Winnipeg Airport
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