Extreme Behaviour – An Ultra Mountain Marathon in Transylvania

Its 6:30am, the air is cool and we’re walking towards the imposing Bran Castle, home of Dracula. Many towers with pointed terracotta roofs adorn an eerie grey stone building surrounded by dark trees. Behind the castle climbing high into the sky are the immense Bucegi Mountains. Lush green meadows and huge pine tree forests occupied by bears and wolves, rising up to the snowy peaks. Our challenge, to conquer the mountain in the Transylvania 50K ultra marathon.

The race starts at Bran Castle, heading up to the peaks of Bucegi before circumnavigating the mountain then arriving back at Bran Castle. My first ever ultra marathon. Officially advertised as hard which means nothing to me, yet…

There’s quiet chatting at the start of the race from a group of a few hundred racers. Everyone is fully geared up with backpacks and walking poles. I’m oblivious to the importance of the poles at this moment but am duly geared up too. Participants are light and toned with slim excited faces that reflect miles of training and a love of the sport. 

An organiser shouts out encouragement in Romanian then we’re off. Under the starting arch and trotting through the town of Bran. No one is going fast. Aware of the miles ahead. The odd car drives by as we run through Bran, then stewards guide us to a farm track. Its stony with hedges and everyone starts to walk. Much less steep than my training, but I feel I must follow suit and steady up for a sprightly march. After a mile or two, the stream of runners turn into the forest, a gentle road first, then the first taste of what this race is about. The mountain forest. A forest as steep as climbing a particularly challenging stairway. But for 2 hours…

I am going for it. Competitive nature kicking in. Speed walking past who I can. I am breathing hard and pouring with sweat as we reach a track that must’ve been a road but the 2 sides for wheels were deeply eroded leaving 2 channels. I’m not sure whether to go in a channel, in the middle or take the side and as I think it through whilst charging up I lose concentration and take a big fall, cutting my knees. Everyone rallies to my help and gets me up and says to take it steady.

I relax a bit but running through my head is my partner attempted this race last year and failed to make cut-off. I’m driven on.

The terrain is unforgiving, and there is little difference in the surroundings. Its hard going… I count to 100 over and over. I look for slight differences in gradient and challenge myself to get there. I look at the ground but its just dirt, and roots, dirt and roots.

Then we all clump up. A fallen tree with a trunk to crawl under then a great branch to traverse. I relish the enrichment. Off again. Height, roots, dirt. When I glance at my watch I’m an hour and a half in! The effort and the sameness have made time stand still.

I reach a grassy clearing with more hill but set a mental goal to get to the next bit of forest high above. More forest, then I arrive above the forest. I’m met with a beautiful grassy meadow with buttercups and small purple flowers. Views of Romania. Huge swathes of farms and rocky mountain tops. Its beautiful. But I don’t gaze too long. I’m terrified of heights so want to focus on the job in hand. I sit down and take a gel. I have been so pre-occupied with marching I’m yet to take on board food but I feel good.

The path then becomes a thin mountain track and my first major panic attack of the day kicks in. I cannot judge how truly dangerous the race is, but as a vertigo sufferer I can tell you from my perspective it felt terrifying. The route becomes a thin mountain track with an immense drop to the side. Not vertical but steep enough that I felt if you started falling you would not stop. My anxiety ridden brain perceived extreme risk of death. And the first hurdle of the path, is a climb over rocks. I was really frightened but I watched the other racers and followed the line. Shaking, I hung onto the face of the mountain and very nervously climbed across. Just 4 or 5 steps but 10 out of 10 fear. As I reached the other side I breathed a sigh of relief but also accepted should I turn back I would have to do it again, solo. A good reason to keep on.

Next the track became user friendly as it traversed a peak, surrounded by grass. I enjoyed it up here. Beautiful views and it felt safe. But the mountain still had surprises. Made worse by my fear of the unknown and deep fear of heights. After a patch of lovely flat safe meadows I reached snow. The snowy patch traversed the edge of the mountain and I threw myself into panic again as I thought I had to snow climb with a risk of plummeting to my death.

I watched others traverse the snow and disappear out of sight. I had to have a go. I told some non-English people I was scared. They didn’t understand but went past me. Deep breaths and I stepped onto the snow. Three or four ginger steps with my poles anchored deeply into the snow ice. Then I realised the cliff edge I thought was there was an optical illusion. It was meadows and a good safety net before any danger. Onwards.

Finally I could run. Rolling meadows again as we went across and down the mountain a bit. Then a steep decline. Rocks and clambering. I made friends with some English chaps from Kent and they gave me advice. Keep your poles connected to the ground. I scrambled climbed and slipped down the track then saw my first big milestone. Checkpoint 1. And I was over an hour ahead of cut off.

I filled up with water, went for a wee (in the toilet of nightmares…). Chatted. Stretched. Ate an orange and had a bit of a rest. Then off. More climbing. This time a much more barren landscape with rocks but still the unforgiving climbing. I made friends with another English man who lived just a few miles from me in Uttoxeter. We chatted until the terrain made talking to tough.

Then down a touch and chatting again to the gents from Kent. They were really good for calming my anxiety. They said if there was any real risk of death the event would’ve been advertised differently and people wouldn’t keep coming back. We talked about the upcoming big challenge of the event. The ice chimney.

As I got higher I could see more and more snow and ice and the temperature began to fall. Then the ice chimney appeared ahead. The mountain had eroded between the peaks and a river of snow and ice became the path to the top. It looked about a 45 degree gradient getting steeper then levelling off at the very top. I could see a long chain of people walking upward. The steep section probably 100ms high.

I tried to rationalise. If you fall you slide to the bottom and start again. I wasn’t convincing myself…

At the base people began putting spiked ice shoes on. I lost my nerve again as I had no spikes and my trail trainers were decidedly flat after months of training for this race. Not ideal for trekking in the snow.  But I joined the queue and let herd instinct take over. Rough steps had been carved into the ice and I began. One at a time. Planting my poles in deep to hang on should I slip. I daren’t look up or down. Just counting in my head. It was so steep. I was really hot despite the cold. The people around me were Romanian and didn’t understand my frightened garbles. Looking up I  promised myself 100 counts and I’d be close. I kept counting and stepping. Then I slipped and the man behind me grabbed me to stop me falling. I thanked him. I think I was ok. Just a foot slipped and my poles were embedded deeply. Just a bit longer then it levelled off. There was a metal chain to hold on to on the right, but I chose a snow free bit to the side where the queue seemed to head. I crab stepped, poles in so deep. Then I reached the grass and I’d done it.

I marched forward. Still terrified. Scared to look back on what I’d done. Desperately wanting photos but afraid of upsetting the status quo. (Thanks Michal Loska for letting me show the above :-)). Just keep going. I’m at the top of the mountain. No way back now!!  Keep on going.

Then came the hail. Thunder in the clouds and hail stinging me. Plus it was terribly cold. I put my gloves on first. Then took them off to get my trousers on. I was getting wet, And it was cold, so cold.

I trotted through the snow and ice more to warm up than anything. The mountain plateau was much flatter. Little vegetation. When I reached telecom masts and a building I knew I must be at the highest point. Then people were running and the guy from near home came by saying checkpoint is near. Rolling hills, hail, snow, mud, cold. It didn’t feel near… I was scared. The path was difficult to follow. There were fewer and fewer people. It was misty. The sky was rumbling.

Then my heart leapt as I saw the checkpoint. It was just a timing checkpoint so no food. But a structure to go into and get out of the hail and cold a little. In here I put on my fleece which was damp. I had a gel and a drink. Then put back on my wet gloves and felt a little cheerier. Kent guys arrived and said next checkpoint is just 5k. I cheered up. Got my sandwich out and marched off into the chilly mountain air.

I munched on my sandwich then hit a muddy path, lost my footing and landed on my bum. Sandwich lost to the mountain… Despite that I was feeling good. Ice chimney conquered. All down hill from now. So I thought…

The vegetation changed to bushes just a meter high that had similar branches and needles to pine trees. Not sure if they were trees unable to grow high in the climate, or some other hardy alpine species. I wanted to get down quick though as was fearful of another cut off time, plus the hail storm rumbles made me fearful. I thought I saw lightening then realised it was the light catching water droplets dripping from my cap.

Then I was with the Kent guys again and I felt a million times better. There were paths along the mountain edge with drops but we worked through them together. It was much easier to do everything with people by my side. They helped me traverse a mountain stream and round the mountain edge.

The terrain started to change again. Meadows were back. I could run again. I felt great. Demons conquered. Then a rickety bridge, I think, or was that later… I came across cows happily munching grass, cow bells tinkling. They were so lovely. No time for pics though as racing to checkpoint. Then I could see signs of civilisation. A chairlift to what must be ski resorts in winter. Maybe a hotel. Then finally the checkpoint.

I trotted in to be told there is no cut off for this section. So I relaxed. I had some soup, went to the loo in what felt like dream porta-loos after the previous loo experience. I ate sweets and bananas, chatted to the stewards and Kent chaps. I took of my wet warm clothes. Had a stretch and filled my water. I was about to head off and my partner appeared. The race was his idea as he’d attempted it last year but not made cut off. We’d agreed not to race together as I’m faster uphill, him better down hill. But he asked me to wait so I did.

Not many people about as we started again. Kent guys had gone. But down a real road. Oh the joy. Trotting downhill on a wide tarmac road with cars and people. Civilisation.

Then back into fields. Down passed a Romanian Gypsy site with wagons and tables set up selling beers food and sweets. I so wanted to stop!! Then out into meadows again. Down a track until some competitors shouted we were heading the wrong way. Concentrate.

Then another huge climb. This one wasn’t scary as it was a huge meadow. Like somewhere Heidi would live in the Swiss Alps. I got to the top of the first bit and waited for my partner and took photos. Then I said I’d wait at the next peak as we were different paces. It was a long, long mile that took 30 mins to trek. But then another checkpoint, not for us 50k racers but the 100k ers. I watched them bounding along like lively puppies. Not showing the fact they must’ve done some huge number of kilometres by that point!!

I waited and ate my sandwich, then we both headed over the hill together and came out on a single track with a huge drop. Like after the woods but this time going down and I was really scared as I could see what was below me. Partner trotted off. I ran a few steps then the fear kicked in. I began anxiously walking my way along the narrow path. Not vertical but again a very steep drop to the side, maybe a kilometre or more.

I was going really slow. And I was all alone. Panic set in. Worst so far. I was leaning into the mountain terrified of falling. My pace a crawl. Then there was a scramble a cross rocks with what I perceived as a death drop. I climbed across crying and shaking. No way back. I couldn’t stop crying. I was petrified. This was the stuff of nightmares. In my dreams I’d jump rather than deal with the fear. But I kept moving. Baby step after baby step.

Then I tried to get myself out of the panic. I imagined the Kent guys were there. “They’d advertise this differently if there was any real danger.” I said it out loud to myself.  Then I thought what would I say to me: “You can do this. You did the ice wall”. “You’re experienced now”. You did this on the way up.” I felt I was lying to myself but panic went down to a 9. The next half hour I think. I’d lost track of time. I remained in a panic hyper-drive.

Eventually the mountain track passed. I was in the woods now. But this time all alone and my mind started wandering again. Now I was afraid of bears. Later I found out the winner of the 100k bumped into a mother bear and her cubs early in the morning, and they regularly visit Bran Town seeking food. Good not to know this then.

I tried to plan what I’d do in an encounter. Back away. But then how to get to the finish if a bear blocks the track. What if it attacked. Do I scream and shout and act big or just step away. Would my poles be any use as a weapon. Logs suddenly looked like ears. Am I being followed.

I trotted on and then thankfully came across some a Romanian couple. They’d not seen a marker and were worried they’d gone wrong. We retraced our steps to the last yellow banner hanging from the trees then walked together. Language was an issue. They have no idea how important they were to me at that point. I felt safe again.

As the wood turned back once more into meadows I began to trot away. Glad to have people behind me. It was warm and midges were in the air. I crossed a mountain stream. But then I saw the next checkpoint and food station. With Kent pals, and partner. I had some sweets and a banana and told Kent guys of my trauma. Then the 4 of us started together. Back into the woods. Boyf leveraging his down hill strengths disappeared into the distance. The 3 of us chatted and helped each other out. Some tricky descents made worse by mud but the drops were now covered with mature pine trees and I wasn’t afraid. It was fun. One guy took a few slips and we gave him encouraging words. But the team element was great.

As the track levelled off I began to run and wished my pals good luck saying I’d see them at the next scary bit or for a beer at the end.

Then the path veered right and I was back on an intense hill climb again up through the forest. I passed a lady who said I was strong. Not really feeling it! But the compliment made me feel good. Back to counting it out. This time on tired sore legs. Marching on and on I saw the boyf and caught him up on the climbs. Then after what felt like forever it levelled off. I was afraid what might be around the corner, but thankfully no more huge drops.

Down through the woods. Passed my partner again then we were trotting down together. I stopped for a gel and he asked why I wasn’t speaking. I said because I felt he left me when I was scared. He said he just wanted to get ahead on the downhill and he wasn’t scared so didn’t think I was. We made up. Then mud and wood and down. Running, slipping, sliding. Any way to keep moving but stay upright. Now I was getting worried about light. It was 18:30 and some way to go.

Then we had a huge long, very steep track that went on forever. I trotted down and down. My quads were killing. Every now and then mud and steepness forcing a walk.

But then the final check point. With Pepsi!! How that Pepsi felt good after 12 hours in the mountains. A banana, a fizzy worm sweet and piece of chocolate then off again, together. More up hill! The race designer loves to punish. Guess that’s why its advertised as hard. Then back into the sunshine in the meadows. I felt like the hobbit returning to the shire. Rolling hills, grass bright in the sunshine, alpine flowers a pair of calves playing together with cow bells jingling, their mums nearby. Sunshine making the grass bright, I could see houses and hear people finishing.

Then the route veered away from the sound and we realised we still had a few miles to go. Partner wanted to walk but I geed him up as trotting would get us in twice as fast. Round tracks, passed fields, then a final bit of woodland. The final bit of wood was a super steep but short bit. I imagined myself on a mountain bike guiding myself down it.

Finally we were back into Bran. I encouraged my boyfriend into a final run. We entered the grounds of Bran Castle. Walking the steps then trotting along a crazy paved path. As the finish line appeared I drew alongside my partner. We held hands and raised them to the air.

Transylvania 50K conquered.

Final thoughts

So on reflection, if I’d known what was coming would I have done it?

Absolutely not!

Am I glad I did it?

Without a doubt.

Physically this was tough but Utah and Kona Ironman were harder so I had a reservoir of experience to cross reference physical pain against. It is mentally that this took me to the edge. To extreme levels of fear.

But I got through. I faced and conquered one of my greatest fears – that of heights. I realised I am capable of even more than I thought. I have a new sense of belief. Confidence that I can do whatever I put my mind to. Even the things I fear most.

I’ve been on the most incredible adventure meeting and learning from fantastic people. I’ve seen an epic part of the world, pushed myself to the max.

My big question now..

What to do next….