The Desert Ultra by Beyond the Ultimate
Beyond the Ultimate Desert Ultra is one of four multi stage races held in extreme environments, which completes the Global Race Series. The other series races include the Amazon Jungle, Swedish Arctic and the mountains of Kyrgyzstan. Outside of the Global Series is For Rangers in Kenya and lastly, a little closer to home, The Highland Ultra in Knoydart, Scotland, which I took part in, and won the womens race, in April 2023.
The Desert Ultra is 250km in 5 days across the Namib Desert, Namibia. Competitors are fully self sufficient, carrying all food, medical and personal hygiene provisions on their back. Water and tents are provided.
The Namib Desert is considered to be the oldest desert in the world and can reach in excess of 50 degrees in the summer months.
Sunday 17th November - Arrival Day in the Namib Desert
Having arrived in Windhoek a couple of days earlier, I had already met quite a few of the runners as they arrived at Arrabusch Hotel – there was a hum of excitement among the group. In the morning we all nervously got into the coach which was to take us out to the desert, a 5 hour journey through changing scenery.
Once we arrived on camp 1 and settled in with our new tentmates, mine was a lovely lady called Kim from Cape Town who I’d been chatting to on Instagram a few weeks prior, we all went through a rigorous kit inspection before we watched the sunset over the beautiful desert landscape. I aimed for an early night knowing that the nerves would get the better of me and rob me of a good night’s sleep.
Monday 18th November – Stage 1 // Spitzkoppe Saddle // 50km
After a restless night, the camp was up early preparing our kit and food for the day ahead. The temperature was lovely and cool which was a pleasant surprise. It didn’t last long.
At 7:30am we were off, aiming for the saddle between the Spitzkoppe mountains. It was a fast start but I felt comfortable with this in the cooler temperatures and knowing that it would reach the mid to late 30’s later in the day, I wanted to cover some decent ground.
In and out of checkpoints 1 and 2 with ease but by time I reached CP3 it was starting to get uncomfortably warm. After a spray down and some encouragement by the race team, I continued at a steady pace, running on the harder rocky ground and walking on the soft sandy sections.
It was my son’s 14th birthday, I had pre recorded a birthday video message for him to play but I also took some time to make another one from the desert. I spent many km’s singing ‘Happy Birthday’ on repeat.
The entire course is marked with pink flags and coming out of CP3 we were given instructions to run approx. 1km down the road and turn right, follow the flags. I’d put my music on by this point and was cruising along, head down, feeling hot but ok. It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t seen a flag for a while so I stopped to look around. Nothing.
I could see the next runner behind me, a lovely guy called Carlos, so I waited for him to catch up so that we could assess the situation together. After walking a bit further along to the crest of the hill in front of us where we figured we’d get a better view, it was clear that there were no flags. We had somehow taken a wrong turn and with no directions or GPX file to reference I could feel the panic rising. How far had we gone? We walked back on ourselves and eventually found the junction where we had taken a wrong turn and rejoined the route. I later worked out that we had added on nearly 3km / 25 mins in the heat of the day. I was frustrated and annoyed, my mood was low but I still had 15km to deal with and that I did.
The mercury had ramped up considerably by this point, late 30’s, and I was feeling weary. You may know that I lost my dad last December (2023). The desert is an incredibly desolate and lonely place at times and whilst I could see one of the runners behind me, I spoke to my dad; ‘Dad, please let me know that you’re with me right now, I need you’ .. and with that a breeze picked up which immediately cooled me down.
This was to become an ongoing thing for the rest of the week, every time I needed a bit of breeze I would ask my dad for help and sure enough it worked every time bar one afternoon when there was nothing.. he did enjoy an afternoon nap so I figured he was having a snooze on that particular occasion.
I finally made it to camp 2 where I was reunited with my camp mates. Everyone was feeling much the same as me – heat exhausted and in shock by how tough day 1 was.
I sorted through my admin and sloped off for an early night, ready to do it all again the next day. I was even more anxious than I was the night before.
Tuesday 19th November – Stage 2 // Brandberg // 50km
Another early start after a half decent night sleep, I felt excited to get back out there. On day 1 I had figured out how to handle myself out there and now I was ready to face the next stage.
The temperature was a fair bit warmer than the morning before so I was mindful of not going off too fast. I felt strong but with 200km ahead of us now was not the time to be over confident.
The course was largely rocky and flat, very runnable. My head was in a strange place with a lot of negative chatter – ‘you have so far to go’, ‘you should be at home with your children’, ‘this is harder than you expected it to be’.
It took me two checkpoints before my thoughts started to turn. I realised that I was running really well and every now and again I would pass another person. I kept my heart rate under 135 and whenever it crept up, I would walk fast with purpose.
I felt good and although it was getting really hot, I was making good progress and currently 3rd female. After yesterday’s navigational error, this is exactly what I needed to remind me that when I have a focus, I can be strong.
As I approached the last checkpoint I stopped to pee and as I did so I felt that all too familiar burning sensation that I experienced at the Marathon Des Sables three years earlier, which nearly ended my race. Surely not again, I couldn’t believe it, especially as I had taken precautions to prevent the same suffering.
In these conditions we’re drinking at least 10 litres a day, if not 12/14, but even with that amount once you start to get dehydrated then it’s very difficult to turn it around. This is a recurring issue with me, it’s a very menopausal symptom, but what I do know is that it’s not helped by taking so many electrolytes which hinders the flow of urine, leaving it very concentrated and hence irritating the bladder upon peeing. So I repeated what I did at MDS and that was to stop taking electrolytes and drink just water. Once back at camp I started taking some cystitis sachets which I’d packed. Unfortunately this wasn’t the last of the irritation.
Another stage done and the atmosphere in camp was good, we were fast becoming a close group and cheered every runner in, looking after each other as we settled into the starry night sky.
Wednesday 20th November - Stage 3 // The White Lady Marathon // 42km
I woke up after not much sleep feeling apprehensive for the day ahead. Despite feeling tired, my body felt good. My feet were blistered but I had taken care of my foot admin the night before and taken a couple of paracetamol to take the edge off the pain.
This stage was particularly significant as once done, we had broken the back of the total distance and the following day was a much shorter 22km ‘recovery’ run. There was a hum of excitement in camp until Adam gave his race brief and told us that temperatures were set to reach just over 50 degrees. Today would very much be a case of managing ourselves in the heat with plenty of water, electrolytes and spraying down at the check points.
The stage started in a sandy riverbed and would remain like this for approximately 16km. It was mostly runnable albeit energy zapping. I was off to a good start but I could hear Rosanna behind me, her breathing was laboured and I could tell she was struggling with the pain in her feet. I checked in on her and she said she was finding it hard today so we decided to walk / run together to cover the distance, and that we did for the first half of the day. I let Rosanna dictate our pace and when we would walk or run. I felt like I had more to give but we also had a long way to go and we still weren’t in the full heat of the day.
Coming out of CP2 the temperature was hotting up and we were slowing down. The approach to CP3 was a long slog of a hill which felt never ending. I felt claustrophobic regardless of the vast expanse I was surrounded by.
You know when you’re sat inside a sauna and it starts to get too intense, you try to sit it out a little bit longer but eventually you feel like you can’t take anymore so that’s the point you exit to cool down. Imagine not being able to leave. There’s no escape, no relief, just oppressive, stifling heat – this is the only way that I can describe what I was feeling at this point.
Coming into CP3, Rosanna was just a few metres ahead of me, I just about stayed upright long enough to get in the shade at which point the panic which had been simmering for the last 30 minutes finally boiled over and I went into a full blown panic attack. I couldn’t breath, my heart rate was high and I was sobbing uncontrollably. My thoughts didn’t make sense and I thought I was going to pass out.
One of the medics, lovely Charlotte, reassured me I was safe now, we counted to 10 taking deep breaths in between and eventually my heart rate slowed. One of the local Namibian volunteers was trying to cool me down with the water sprayer. Rosanna had already left but my friend Rose who I met at Highland Ultra in 2023 had also been struggling with the heat, so she offered to stay with me and do the next part together. I was incredibly grateful and knowing that I wasn’t alone gave me the reassurance I needed to complete the remaining 16km of the stage.
Rose and I walked / ran together for a few km’s but again the heat was getting the better of me. I didn’t want to compromise her exposure to the heat on my part so I told her I’d be fine and she should go on, she reluctantly did and I was completely fine with that.
I spent some time in the last CP trying to cool down and take on plenty of water ahead of the final 6km push to the finish. I lay on the ground with my feet up but they were throbbing and stinging so badly, it felt like they were going to explode. I needed to get back up but the thought of going back out into the heat filled me with fear and dread.
This was to be the longest and hardest 6km of my life, bar none. I’ve never felt so hot before, I could barely walk let alone run. I took a moment underneath what felt like the only shady tree in all of the Namib Desert but when I sat down on the ground all that happened is that now the heat was radiating through my arse rather than my head. Sucked to be me.
With only 2km left to the finish, this was the closest I’ve come to pushing the SOS button on my tracker, it took the very little I had left to not do it. I thought of my children, how would I tell them that I didn’t make it, I couldn’t bear the thought of it. I scraped myself off the ground and in a moment of madness / resilience / stubbornness I screamed at the top of my lungs ‘YOU CANNOT BREAK ME!!’ and with that I crawled the final stretch into camp where I collapsed on the mats and didn’t move for a good 2 hours .. that is until a sandstorm swept through camp like an avalanche, taking out the big tent canopy and everything in it’s way.
Further to this, we had been informed that someone in the local area had been bitten by a snake that day and had sadly died, We were warned to keep our tents sealed at all times and leave no belongings outside.
We were constantly reminded that we were in one of the most hostile environments on the planet.
I was glad to see the end of the day, we had covered 142km taking us over halfway, I felt content if not utterly exhausted.
Thursday 21st November – Stage 4 // Damara Dash // 22km
After the first decent night sleep I’d had all week, I woke up at 5:45am just in time to watch the sunrise. Myself, Kris (RD), Sharif and Nick climbed up to the top of a rocky outcrop which offered spectacular views of the Brandberg Mountain. The camp was set in a river bed where presumably there was a water way under the ground as the area was very green in comparison.
We had been told that this is where a herd of elephants, spotted in previous years of the race, patrol up and down the river bed and had been seen in the area only the day before. There were certainly many signs that they were close, with fresh droppings and foot prints, but sadly we didn’t see them.
The sun rose over our camp and cast a kaleidoscope of colours over the Brandberg, there was a sense of calm knowing that we had survived the hottest day and today, whilst still mid 40’s, was the short day which meant more recovery time. The long day was looming.
We had a much later start of 11:30am which meant a lot of waiting around in the shade. We had visitors from the Brandberg White Lady Lodge who spoke to us about their offerings of jeep safari’s and tours of the mountain, it sounded far more civilised than how we had chosen to spend our week in Namibia.
They wrapped up their visit with a song and dance in the style of the local Damara people, it was beautiful, once again a wave of emotion came out of nowhere. I missed my children, I’d come this far but still had a way to go before I could hug them again. I also couldn’t ignore the fact that my dear old dad, who always loved travel and culture would have been in his element, this is exactly the point I would have video called him so that we could share this moment together.
11:30 finally arrived and we set off for the 22km stage. Normally speaking, 22km might take 2/2.5 hours but in desert running time moves more slowly, I had estimated 4 hours for this stage which is roughly what we did it in.
My only goal for today was to keep moving forward and not push hard at all. Myself, Rose and Rosanna walked / ran the first 10km together, we felt good even though it was already 40+ degrees. Rosanna pushed on ahead but Rose and I stuck to our plan of taking it steady. Going into the last CP we saw Carly so the three of us covered the last 3km together feeling strong ahead of the long stage.
Later that evening we had out first insight of the rankings;
1. Carla (absolute machine of a woman)
2. Rosanna (most headstrong person on the planet)
3. Rose (consistently strong)
4. Ioana (Small but mighty, also completing the full Global Series)
5. Me (pretending not to be competitive)
Only 4 mins between Rose and Ioana, 50 mins between Ioana and myself. The women’s race suddenly heated up.
Friday 22nd November – Stage 5 // The Grind // 92km
At 2am a collective wave of alarms rang through the camp, the 92km long stage had finally arrived. Although spirits were high, you couldn’t miss the undertone of nerves – just one last stage to tackle and we had completed the Beyond the Ultimate Desert Ultra – not many people can say that.
The night before, after seeing the rankings, my head had flipped into competitive mode. To this point I had sat in the top 5 women, playing it safe in the heat and managing my energy levels. I’m usually very competitive and will always push hard in a race but I’ve had a rough year with one thing and another which has meant training wasn’t quite where I would have hoped for it to be. I guess you could say that I had drifted, maybe lacking self confidence – this was an incredibly strong field of female athletes after all and I honestly started the week not knowing how I would fare against them.
So now I had a goal; start the day strong, push hard, keep moving forward and don’t stop until the finish line. I had to close 50 minutes on 4th lady, Ioana, and then create a buffer to secure my position. I also had a special power up in Rose who was looking to hold and secure her final position in 3rd - there were only 4 minutes between her and Ioana, we had to work together to pull this off.
Just to be clear, not at any point was there any rivalry. On the course, this was a ferociously strong field of women, each with their drive and ambition to complete this race. In camp, we were all great friends with a strong sense of connection and camaraderie. Whatever happened, we were all rooting for each other to complete the race, regardless of what that looked like.
4am and we were off, Rose and I excited to work on this together, already in the knowledge that we made a great team having met 18 months earlier at the Highland Ultra and also shared quite a few miles together in the desert this week.
In and out of CP1 and onto CP2 as the sun started to rise behind us, bringing with it a sense of optimism and hope. It was around about then that my left foot caught a rock and I went flying across the rocky ground, cutting my knees, hands and elbows, it was minimal damage but enough to have a fleeting moment of ‘bugger, is that the end of my race less than 15km in?’. Luckily it wasn’t, we continued onto CP2 where there was quite the buzz of excitement from the crew who told us that they were rooting for us to pull this off and gave us a quick summary of numbers.. we were already 15/20 mins ahead.
I went to pee and just like day 2, the all too familiar burning sensation was back. I couldn’t believe it, surely not now, not when everything was going so well and I was feeling my strongest all week. we weren’t even halfway yet. Now more than ever, I had to manage this situation, I had 3 sachets left, the only way to get on top of this was to drink one at every check point as well as plenty of water in between. I also knew that I had to ditch the electrolytes which was a big risk, one that I had already taken 3 years earlier. It worked then, I hoped it wasn’t a fluke.
Onward through the next couple of check points, we were aiming to cover 50km by midday which would have been our fastest 50km of the week, and that we did with some time to spare and also still feeling really good.
The checkpoints were so uplifting with all hands on deck to get our water bottles refilled, our hat and buffs soaked in a bucket of water and we were sprayed down with water. Rose and I weren’t imagining it, everyone was rallying for us to pull this off which just spurred us to keep pushing forward.
I still couldn’t pee, I was desperately uncomfortable and also very anxious. I couldn’t drink enough water, but still nothing was coming out. Then finally, spmewhere between CP4 and 5, I finally managed a proper wee - I literally rejoiced and much like a child who’s just had first time potty success, I yelled to Rose ‘I DID IT!!’ .. she also rejoiced, probably because she was no longer going to get a running commentary of my bladder antics. It was at that point, shorts pulled down, arse in plain view, that one of the media trucks came over the crest of the hill and got an eye full. It was possibly my lowest point, I was just thankful that they weren’t flying the drone.
The scenery on this last stage was by far the most impressive that we had all week, it was constantly changing between canyons, rocky outcrops, vast flat land, conservation areas and moonscapes. It was awe inspiring and humbling.
By time we reached CP6, the temperature was fast rising and we had slowed down a fair bit despite still feeling mentally strong. We stayed a little bit longer at this checkpoint taking on extra water and fuel – we had been informed that there was now a 60 minute gap between us an Ioana, this was reassuring but with 30km still to go, anything could happen so we couldn’t rest on our laurels.
The next section was a gruelling stretch of completely baren deadland which seemed to be never ending. An undulating road of Mars-like red, dusty rock which radiated heat from all angles. There was quite literally not a scrap of life there; no animal holes, no tracks, not a single shrub or tree, just baking red rock and we were being cooked at all angles.
We finally arrived at CP7 feeling drained and with spirits somewhat dented. The heat had taken its toll, but we figured that we had maybe another 30/40 minutes before it would start to cool down. My feet were throbbing in pain, I could feel them riddled with blisters and they were swollen. I didn’t want to lose any time by taking off my shoes and socks, draining my blisters and then having to dress them. In a race like this you become accustomed to living in pain and discomfort, its part of it, and with 22km left I knew that I could tolerate the pain for a few more hours. It wasn’t so bad when we were moving, it was when we stopped that my body would remind me of the trauma I was putting it through.
A nice little pick-me-up was when Rose pulled out a packet of Mini Cheddars to share, what a joyous moment that was. You very quickly adapt in the desert, living on the absolute basics so when something like a packet of Mini Cheddars appears, it’s like hitting the jack pot!
We pushed on, just 10km to the last checkpoint and then a further 12km to the finish. Taking some extra time in CP7 served us well, our spirits had lifted, this was the second wind we very much needed.
I had found a packet of Biltong which Sharif had given me when sadly his race didn’t go to plan, he no longer needed as much fuel. With every km, Rose and I ate one piece. Again, it’s the small things that you learn to appreciate in this type of environment.
CP8 was the final checkpoint just 12km from the finish. It felt surreal that we were here, having set off 14 hours earlier. We were warned that there had been earlier signs of baboons on the next section, and to be vigilant.
With one final cheer and pep talk from the race crew, Rose and I were ready to give it one final push. We hadn’t had any updates since CP6 as the signal had dropped out on the team comms, last we heard we were an hour ahead but we had also slowed down a fair bit, we had no idea if we’d done enough but we couldn’t take it for granted. We were exhausted, sore and wanted to stop running but we had to keep going, we had covered 80km, just 12 to go.
The final section was through an epic canyon, we were surrounded by high rock cliffs which featured many caves, it felt like we were being watched and I have no doubt that was indeed the case. I was constantly on the look out for baboons, I know they can be very aggressive but I couldn’t help but wonder how on earth I’d find the energy to fight them off , had they decided to make us their fodder.
I was on my last legs, as was Rose, but she was still reasonably upbeat. I was not. Rose decided that the best approach at this stage would be to run 400m, walk 100m, and we had to do this 24 times to get us to the finish. 24 felt like such a huge number but I knew she was right, we needed some sort of structure to get it done.
I put on my music for the first time all day and imagined my kids cheering me through the finish line. A big deep breath in and I whispered to the desert, ‘You cannot break me’.
It was the longest 12km of my life, but we kept moving forward, running 400m, walking 100m and before too long we had just 1km left to go. All week I had manifested this moment and with that I chose my dad’s favourite song which we played at this funeral – ‘My way’ by Il Divo. I felt overwhelmed with pride for what Rose and I were about to achieve.
Approaching the end of the canyon, we had a glimpse of the camp and could hear voices shouting our names. Rose stopped and turned to me with watery eyes, ‘I can’t believe this is it, we’ve done it’. We shared a moment which I’ll never forget, we were so grateful to each other for the friendship we had forged in the previous days, now solidified in the knowledge that we had pushed each other as hard as we could to complete all 92km of the long stage, together.
Running into camp was the most incredible feeling as we were cheered in by everyone – we had finished joint 2nd in the women’s race and top 10 overall. I immediately turned to hug Rose as a wave of overwhelming emotion took hold of us and we both cried exhausted tears of joy and relief that it was finally over.
We cracked open a cold beer and cheered in the other runners as one by one they completed the Desert Ultra. We had done it.
Namib Desert, you cannot break me, although you gave it a damn good shot.
