Race Report: Down Under 135 by Tim Kacprzak
down under 135
26 april 2024
lerderderg forest, vic
contributed by tim kacprzak, aura member
DU135 is renowned for being one of the world’s gnarliest races, with 217km and 13000m of vertical gain, on and off trail, through creek beds and relentless hills. Unforgiving cut-offs make it a true test of endurance and mental fortitude.
Here we go again…the minute I finished DU135 2023 I said…” I’m never doing that again,” easily the hardest physical and mental race I’ve every had the pleasure of taking on, if finishing the event before gave me any confidence I could do it again, I was mistaken.
This year the race directors at DU135 decided to reverse the course, having the competitors start and finish in Blackwood, a beautiful old mining town east of Melbourne. This course change meant that unlike other years where the start and finish would be where you would find yourself battling the toughest parts of the course, the middle of the race was now going to be the most brutal. Although this year’s times were faster than last, I believe the preparedness of the athletes was what allowed for this to happen. The easiest section of the course was still a brutal 20km and 1000m of elevation gain. But as the athletes do every year with DU135, we crossed our fingers and prayed we’d be one of the very few that would see the finish line come 50 or so hours later.
At the crack of a whip we all headed out of Blackwood full of confidence and hope for what the days ahead would bring. The course reversal meant we weren’t greeted with an immediate slap of vert in the face. Instead, we winded our way out of Blackwood via the Wombat State Forrest and deep into the wilderness along amazing single tracks that felt a little to easy for what is usually a brutal DU course.
I worked my way into a steady groove well off the front runners as not to get sucked into the ease of the opening kilometres, planning on getting to the halfway point in 22 hours allowed for some conservative running, and this would hopefully allow for me to retain plenty in the tank for when the middle of the race dropped its sledgehammer of vert on us.
Hitting the early aid stations went quite smooth, with my crew of my wife Rachael, son Oliver and daughter Misha quick to refuel me and send me on my way with a cheer and a “you got this.” But as I slowly made my way deeper into the race the familiar landscape of past triumphs began to emerge, the calm before the storm was upon me and as I enjoyed the last 6kms of river flat before the relentless hills sections I knew I was in for one hell of a ride. The trekking poles were well and truly out for the last section up to the Square Bottle aid station as the sting in the legs was rising directly in proportion to the steepness of the hills encountered. Another quick refuel and of I headed to the flattest part of the course.
Old River is a 10km off trail section where you find yourself in a dried-out creek trudging over ankle busting rocks, razor sharp bushes and hurdling over giant fallen trees. What looks flat on an elevation trace is absolute mayhem in reality.
Images by Warren Maynard
By this point the sun had made way for the moon and I had managed to catch up to two fellow runners in Simon and Chris, along with Simon’s pacer we soldiered on through the never ending Old River at what felt like the slowest pace known to man. For the first time it was nice to not have to keep my head up looking for pink ribbons as we all followed Simon’s pacer, this allowed for some rest and a much needed boost for morale as running to that point had been pretty much solo. After what felt like an eternity the end of Old River was in sight A quick wade through waste deep water and I was greeted with a 30 percent grade climb on hands and knees through thick scrub, at this point Old River didn’t seem so bad. Up the hill I had left our crew of three as I was eager to get to the aid station and re focus for the journey to halfway. I was greeted kindly by a bum scoot down another hill as standing and trying to descend seemed way too dangerous as the scrub and leaf litter would have felt like I was skiing down a black diamond run.
What followed was potentially some of the toughest and brutal running I had encountered, 36 kilometres and 3000 metres of vertical gain seems almost impossible to comprehend, but with most climbs averaging 20-30% grades you soon found out why this race is so hard to finish. The race directors made mention about the first 100km being the hardest in Australia, but we got to come back and do it all again. Coming into McKenzie Flat picnic area and the halfway point I didn’t know the carnage that had unfolded in front.
The leader was unable to continue, and the next two lads were also taking longer breaks, maybe this was a sign, I clearly didn’t get the message as I short stopped again and took off to complete the hardest part of the course. Finding myself in 1st place at this point gave me some confidence in how I was travelling. Not for long…as I continued to Bears Head along steep and rocky ridgelines my friend Chris from Old River came flying past, at this point I was close to 140km deep and it was the last of him I would see for the entire event.
Leaving Bears Head aid station after my son patched my broken body up I was starting to experience some issues, the things I was carrying for the previous 150km were starting to weigh on me, but I knew there was only one way forward. The relentless nature of the event throughout night two became one of the hardest experiences I’ve had to overcome. At this point I had lost all sense of time and direction on course, making navigation errors, and falling asleep on course to try and recapture some composure became an endless battle for survival. As day broke I felt like I had gone to hell and back, but what was to come would truly test me to my limit.
Seeing my family at the final aid station felt like I was returning after a deployment at war, battered and bruised after a couple big stacks on rocky terrain didn’t help my condition and by this point I was hallucinating so much I didn’t know who was real and who was part of the race team. With 19km to go they sent me on my way, at which point I could hardly muster a shuffle. Having one of my good mates Ben pass me to go on for his first finish in three attempts warmed my heart, along with others as I limped my way through the rest of the course. Getting my math wrong at the end had me trying to push my body as it was trying to shut down, my watch giving me an ETA of 1:02 had me worried I wouldn’t get back for the finish.
As Chris Norris passed me with his pacer, his pacer recalculated my math to let me know I was out by two hours, relief…is all I can say. As I limped the last few kilometres to the finish line I was met up the trail by my son who helped me navigate to the finish line where I was greeted with applause by my wife, daughter and the amazing people of Down Under 135.
Touching that post for the second time and being one of the lucky seven to finish was humbling. Two finishing gold pans from two attempts was something I never thought I was capable of, but to be able to share it with so many good friends who had tried so many times to touch the post but been unsuccessful was even more satisfying.
I said this when I finished, and I stand by it and what this event really represents for the people who attempt it ; To endure half this race is one of the single biggest achievements anyone can achieve, but to turn around and do it all again knowing what’s to come takes more than just physical and mental endurance, it requires you to leave a piece of yourself out there on course.
Image by Warren Maynard
Image by Warren Maynard
Image by Warren Maynard
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