The D-Day. It’s 2 a.m., on May 17, and we’ve been sleeping for 3 hours now. While everyone is still asleep, Sam and I wake up, indulge a cup of coffee, try to eat a little, get dressed and send our last message to our family. We have a brief look at ourselves, terrified, questioning our life choices, but we can’t give up now. We go over one last verification of our material, afraid of forgetting the essential, and are off by 3 a.m. Danny, a local expedition and climbing guide, is to bring us to the departure point, a small fishing beach in Todos Santos, where he will follow us for 27 km until we reach el Porton, the entrance of the Sierra de la Laguna.
Km 0. We’ve arrived. It’s pitch black outside. We can smell the salty air and feel the ocean breeze, which we will only see again by the end of our expedition. We haven’t even started running, and yet I am already terrified at the idea of covering so many kilometres in an environment that is completely unknown to me. During our preparation, I tried to think of all the variables that could go wrong. Insurances, rescue processes, survival kits, rehydration protocols, tracking devices.
My mindset is going to all the places, but I remind myself that the only thing I have control on, is my physical capabilities and mental strength to complete the challenge - I have to at least take THAT for granted.
We take off and that’s such a huge relief, and yet so scary at the same time. We run with our most raised awareness, our headlamps overseeing largely the ground so that we never mislead a tree branch for a rattle snake. The sun rises progressively, and we can finally see the environment in which we’ve ran for already 15 km. The trails share contrasted ecosystems: deserts, densed forests, tropical landscapes, mountainous terrains and sandy trails. The feelings I have are weird, as I’m already sore from a few days earlier in the city, when I was bitten on the leg by a pitt bull, antibiotics kicking in to prevent any kind of infection and painkillers to address the soreness in my muscles. Definitively afraid of any dog that would meet our path from now on.
Danny waits for us at every 5 km so that we feel secure and supported, and enjoy a portion of the trail without having to carry too much on our shoulders. Aside from the dogs that chase us and try to attack us during that portion of the trail (…), things go smoothly, and, before we know it, we have covered 27 kilometres progressively, at a good pace and warming up slowly.
Km 27. Danny waits for us in his truck at el Portón, the entrance of the Sierra de la Laguna, where we take a quick break, eat well and drink as much water and electrolytes as possible to stay sane in the extreme heat and change of altitude. Leaving Danny, we feel great knowing that we are tackling a mountain section, our strength as runners. Our bags are each filled with 3-4L of water, because this section will be long, exposed, extremely isolated and steep: over 2,000m of elevation and 13km to reach the top, and then a technical downhill of about 20km. Running this section is pretty harsh with our bags of 15L-20L each.
As we pursue our ascent, Sam is battling dehydration, difficulties to eat, and severe heat stress. I keep on reminding him to eat more, that we are not there yet. We rely on a source of water up on the mountain, at km 40. Without this source, it would be practically impossible to go both and up the Sierra de la Laguna at this time of the year, given the heat. Nonetheless, every footstep we make, we discover the most spectacular and breathtaking views, from the mountain range on the Pacific Ocean, where we stood a few hours before.
Gels, bars, electrolytes and water do not seem to be enough, because every bite or sip we take, we get even thirstier. We try to adapt our food and water intake strategy, as the climb does not seem to have an end and we feel dizzier every minute spent in these extremely steep passages. The bags feel heavy, and we try to breathe calmly in this extreme heat. During the long hours that bring us to the top of the mountain, we do not meet a single person, only a couple of horses and their caballeros.
Overseeing the views from afar, seeing how long we’ve covered, we briefly mention how curious it is to see that all of the rivers are completely dry. A concern that we will only raise again at km 40, where we’ll find out that the Laguna, our only water source is, too, completely dry. Left with a 250 ml spair of water each, that’s when things started to go down, literally and physically speaking.
Km 40. This is it, the top of the Sierra de la Laguna. After a hard summit push under the stifling heat, climbing with patience for many hours, we are taking in every bit of this breathtaking landscape. For a brief moment, we contemplate the view, overlooking the 40 km that separates us from the Pacific Ocean. We drink our last sips of water knowing that we’re close to the Laguna and will soon be able to refill.
As we pursue our route though, we start to wonder where the Laguna is. We come and go, look at our route more than once. We’re focused on a simple task: finding the valleys where we know the oasis should be…
But everything is completely dry. There is no water here. It’s the beginning of the end, since we know the only other water source here is 20 km away from us… Fortunately enough, we find an underground water source, where we can’t fill more than than 200 ml at once, trying to filter the insects. “One liter each is fine.. if we keep on rationing our water intake.” We take off as quickly as possible, telling ourselves that 20 km of rolling descent should not take long.
One thing to remember: always prepare for the worse. The descent is the steepest and most technical route we’ve ever seen, with equal uphills and not runnable downhill sections. What should take 3 hours actually took 6. As the hours go by, Sam is getting more and more dehydrated. At one point, I can’t recognize him anymore, and so I give him the rest of my water, feed him as much as I can, keep on moving and telling him all the words to keep going. We are like in a film and it’s impossible to know if we will be able to get out of this place. It’s just so secluded, and we are afraid that Edgardo won’t be waiting for us anymore. The sun is setting, snakes will go out, Sam is not there anymore with me. I take his fastpack off of him and carry it on top of my own. The kilometers go by so slowly, 15 km left. 13, 9. Wait, no 11… 8, 5, 3, 1.
We reach San Dominio. Edgardo is here. With water, and food. At this point for me it’s clear Sam and I will be able to make it through the end. We cover the last 20 km down to Santiago under the sunset and then at dark as my headlamp shuts down. We are so lucky Edgardo put a small bed for us at his place for the night, and we can even eat a cozzy dinner and take a quick shower.
KM 80. It's 5 a.m. We wake up, eat quickly and take into account how powerful our legs are. Not even tired! So we cover the last 60 km in the crazy desert with so much pleasure and fun, enjoying ALL the rice and potatoes so that we can run with energy and enjoy plenty the most beautiful views.
KM 140. We really did not see the last 60 km pass by. But we are here. Facing the Cortez sea, the most beautiful waves, our feet in the sand. So proud of ourselves. And hungry.