A DIFFERENT KIND OF MARATHON

By Paul Murray

            Covering 157 kilometers (97.5 miles) from LaChute (outside Montreal) to Buckingham (near Ottawa) over two days, the Canadian Ski Marathon (CSM) claims to be “the world’s longest ski race.”  I have no way to verify this claim, but I have no reason to doubt it either.

            When my friend and Dynamic Duo partner, Jayne Zinke, suggested that we enter this race, my first reaction was, “No way you’re going to get me to ski 100 miles.”  Then she explained.  The race is divided into ten sections of approximately 10 miles each.  Entrants may do as many or as few segments as they wish.  That put the race in a different perspective.  I was sure I could complete four or five legs of the race, so I sent in my application.

            The folks who organize the CSM definitely know what they’re doing.  The 2001 edition was their 35th race.  Over the years they have developed quite an impressive organization without loosing the personal touch.  The competition is divided into two categories.  The Tourers are by far the most numerous group.  These are ordinary skiers of all ages who hope to complete two or three sections per day.  Awards are presented to skiers in various age categories from Mighty Mites (8 and under) to Silver Tips (65+) based on the number of sections they complete.  Tourers may also compete as part of a team.  Jayne and I joined the Green Mountain Express (GME) from Vermont.  With 71 members, the Express may have been the largest team in the race.

            The elite racers compete in the Coureur des Bois division.  This category is named after the legendary Canadian hunters, trappers, and frontier men (kind of like our “mountain men”).  These racers emulate their historic namesakes by accomplishing amazing feats of endurance in challenging conditions.  They strive to complete all ten segments of the race in two days.  In the Gold division, racers must ski wearing a full pack and camp overnight in the snow.  Entrants in the Silver division get to sleep indoors, but must carry a 5 kilogram pack.  Skiers in the Bronze division are not required to carry a pack.

            I never got an accurate count of the total number of participants.  Because the racers start at different times (the Coureur des Bois go off at 6 AM) and because they may elect to start from different points on the course, there never was a gathering of all racers at one time.  My best estimate is that at least 2000 people took part in this event.

            Providing food and lodging for so many athletes is quite a feat.  Entrants may choose between first class accommodations at the Chateau Montebello or the less fancy Papineauville High School.  The Chateau Montebello is an elegant old resort hotel.  It is advertised as “the largest log structure in the world.”  Imagine a three story building capable of housing 500 guests constructed entirely of logs.  The lobby of the chateau is dominated by an enormous fireplace with six separate hearths.  This is where skiers congregate to swap yarns about past exploits, speculate about the snow conditions, and engage in endless discussions about the proper wax to use.  The chateau boasts every feature that you would find in a fine hotel including a large swimming pool and two hot tubs (just the thing for relaxing after a hard day on the trails).  Jayne and I resolved that this is where we would stay if we come again next year.

            Facilities at the Papineauville High School are considerably more spartan. Here racers unroll their sleeping bags on classroom floors.  They dine in the school cafeteria and shower in the locker rooms. Social life revolves around ski wax.  There were clinics to demonstrate proper waxing techniques in the school lobby, long lines of skiers waiting for a turn to wax their skis, and endless discussions about the proper wax to use.

            Getting to the high school was probably the most difficult part of the weekend.  When we left Albany on February 9 the sky was clear and the road was dry, but when we crossed the border into Canada it began to rain.  For the next hundred miles we drove through a freezing rain that became a downpour at times.  We passed numerous vehicles that had skidded off the road.  This made us question our sanity for ever entering such a race.  With colder temperatures predicted for the next day I wondered, “How will we ever be able to ski tomorrow?”

            We awoke at 5 o’clock Saturday morning to find that our building had no electric power.  Outside we could hear the wind howling at 40-60 kilometers per hour.  The wind had blown trees across power lines.  The ground was covered by a thick sheet of ice.  “There’s no way you’re going to get me out in these conditions,” I thought.  Before long the race organizers announced that the start would be delayed for two hours.  Soon they told us that the day’s racing was cancelled.  Things would go on as planned for Sunday, they assured us.  All day long crews toiled to remove fallen tree branches from the course and to groom the snow into a passable trail.  Faced with the prospect of waiting around the high school for the rest of the day, many of our group elected to drive to Ottawa and sample the pleasures of Canada’s capital city.

            Sunday dawned bright and clear.  The gale force winds had subsided to manageable level.  There was a flurry of activity as skiers assembled their gear.  The race was definitely on at last.  Jayne and I boarded a yellow school bus that would shuttle us to our start at checkpoint 8.  We decided that we would try to complete the last three sections of the course.  The temperature was about 0 degrees F (-20 C) when we got off the bus.  This was no time to stand around chatting.  As soon as we checked in with race officials we headed off across snow covered fields.  Amazingly, most of the course was carefully groomed and tracked—not much different from normal conditions at Lapland Lake.

            The first section was the shortest of the day (12.5 K) and took us through forests belonging to the Fraser Paper Company.  There was a good bit of climbing into the hills and a lot of rolling terrain after the initial climb.  Once we got going there weren’t many other skiers on the trail.  After about 45 minutes I was passed by a skier skating effortlessly under a huge back pack.  He was the first of many Courer des Bois to pass me.  In three hours he already had covered 35 kilometers.  I was in awe of his ability. 

After two hours we arrived at the aid station at checkpoint 9.  The most important task was to get our bibs punched to verify that we had completed the section.  Race volunteers served hot soup and honey water.  We gulped down the steaming fluids.  I discovered that the hose to my camelback had frozen solid so I dumped the water—no need to carry the extra weight. 

It was too cold to enjoy this hospitality for long and soon we headed off on section 9 (15 K).  This segment was rated “easy” with no difficult climbs or descents, but I began to experience problems negotiating the downhills.  As I looked at the skiers passing me, more and more each hour, I realized that my newly purchased touring skis were not the proper equipment for a race like this one.  Well, there was no option but to keep going to the end.  Part of the course followed the snow covered Blanche River and here the wind cut into us without mercy.  We passed a sign that said 5 K to the next checkpoint—it was the longest 5 K of my life. 

When we arrived at checkpoint 10 we had to decide whether to quit or complete the final segment.  One of our GME teammates announced that she had had enough and was taking the shuttle to the finish, but Jayne and I were determined to press on.  We both fell on the first hill of the last section—not a good omen.  Section 10 was mostly hills with few flat sections.  With each passing mile I had more difficulty controlling my descent.  Other racers would glide by me and call out “skier down” to warn oncoming competitors to steer around my prostrate body.  After each spill, my pace slowed perceptibly.  Now racers were streaming by me.  I remembered my one New York Marathon when I ran out of gas in the last mile and hundreds of runners passed me.  It was clear that I had depleted my reserves of energy and was now running on willpower alone.  Jayne was having problems of another sort.  The sticky “klister” wax that had been applied to her new skis the night before was collecting all kinds of debris from the trail.  The bottoms of her skis were littered with pine needles, gravel, and twigs, making forward progress difficult and gliding impossible.

Finally, the trail left the woods and started across a golf course.  We had seen no signs announcing the finish ahead, but I remembered that the race packet said that the race concluded at the Buckingham Golf Club.  Could the end be near?  Then another skier shouted, “only one kilometer to go.”  Suddenly, the finish line was in view.  Never was the end more welcome.  The race photographer stopped us and said, “I’ve got to get a picture of your beard.” I must have been quite a sight. I was iced from ear to ear.  We had finished 42.5 K—just a bit longer than the Hopkinton to Boston route—in about seven hours.  For both of us it was our slowest marathon ever but mercifully no clocks were displayed at the finish and no one seemed concerned about our time.  When we received our final punches and realized that we would receive silver medals for completing three sections, pride and satisfaction replaced our fatigue.

Will I be returning to the CSM next year?  It’s too soon to answer that question.  Give me a few weeks for my aches and pains to disappear and my bruises to heal.

Would I recommend the CSM to other athletes looking for new challenges?  Definitely.  The race is certainly unique.  It traverses some beautiful, unspoiled country.  The other participants are a gregarious bunch.  I made new friends from all over Canada and the U.S. and even one from Switzerland.  The organizers and volunteers are uniformly friendly and helpful.  Hearing the French language spoken by officials and skiers gave the race an international flavor.  I dusted off phrases remembered from high school French class to call, “bon chance,” to passing skiers and say, “merci,” to smiling volunteers.  It was an adventure that I will remember for years to come.

Others who may be interested in trying the CSM in 2002 can gather more information by contacting their website at www.csm-mcs.com.