Having done Ironman Mallorca in 2023 and Ironman Copenhagen in 2024 I promised my wife I would not enter another Ironman in 2025…and then I entered the ballot for Patagonman 2024.
I can’t remember why I looked at the Patagonman website, maybe I saw the race pop up in one of the ‘Top 10 races’ and the photo looked nice, anyway an idea had been planted. Patagonman is a ballot entry event with places for only 300 athletes, much like Norseman which I have entered unsuccessfully for the past few years. Seeing that entries were open I stuck my name down on the list with very little idea of what I was signing up for. ‘What’s the worst that can happen’, it was only £10 that went to charity if I was unsuccessful, there are 8 billion people in the world and only a few spaces available, so I was pretty confident I wouldn’t get in.
This email came as a bit of a shock:
“Its once in a lifetime” I told Amie as I clicked enter and paid the eye-wateringly expensive entry fee. After that it was time to find out where Patagonia was and find out what I signed up for.
The Patagonman takes place in Chilean Patagonia, around 8000miles from Banbury! It is an Xtreme Triathlon (though not part of the XTri Series) which generally means that they take place in more remote and dramatic landscapes, probably include a colder or ocean swim, include more hills and likely have an off-road run.
The course runs point-to-point starting in Aysen Fjord and finishing 226km to the south-east at Puerto Ibanez. The swim starts before sunrise with a jump off a ferry into a cold fjord, expected to be around 10 degrees Celsius, before swimming the 3.8km back to Puerto Chacabuco where T1 is on the dockside. The bike section takes you 180km through winding river valleys before climbing up through a pass in the Cerro Castillo National Park before a short steep descent into Villa Cerro Castillo village, with a total of 2400m of ascent. The bike course has short sections of gravel roads where they are being repaired as well as some longer cobbled sections, and the course as a whole is characterised by strong winds most days of the year and so bike, wheel and kit choices need to take this into account. After that its a 43.2 kilometre hilly run on dirt trail and rubble road following the Ibanez River to Puerto Ibanez, with a total of 915m of ascent. A support crew for this race is essential as the event is largely unsupported and they are required to set-up/break down T1 and T2, feed you on the bike and pick you up at the finish line.
With the race scheduled for 01 December 2024 I had a full season to put off training and watch all the other members of Team Cherwell digging deep for their A-races though I eventually started to pick the milage up in September.
The swim is typically my best part of a triathlon though for anyone that doesn’t know me, I hate cold water and have been known to shiver in Bloxham pool when everyone else is going purple from the heat! With water temperatures expected to be between 8 and 12 degrees Celsius I knew this could realistically end the race for me if I wasn’t ready so the credit card came out and I started to hoard neoprene like it was going out of fashion. Cold water training really kicked off as the temperature dropped in late October, with 5am 10-15 minute cold immersions in an old water butt in the garden before jumping on the turbo for a cycle. Cold showers also snuck into the routine later in the year as I really started to panic, as well as a few 1-hour cold swims at Bicester lake. Anyone who tells you that cold water dunking is good for your soul is wrong, don’t listen to them.
Most of my bike training was turbo based though there are a few key rides I did that I would encourage anyone to have a go at if they are training for a long race, particularly one with lots of hills. They are also great events in their own right and well worth having a go at.
I have had long-term injuries from running and so clocked up an impressively low total of 21km in running, starting my ‘training’ at the end of September. I probably don’t need to tell most people that this is not sufficient training for a hilly off-road marathon and we will see later how this worked out for me.
This gave me a week in-country to get acquainted with the area, swim a few times at the local beach ‘Bahía Acantilada’ and acclimatise to the water which was a similar temperature to Bicester and so, whilst not totally comfortable, at least I felt somewhat prepared. I had the opportunity to ride sections of the course and run the first 5km section of the run course so that I knew where I was going out of transition. I also drove the whole bike course with my support crew which was essential to work out a feeding strategy. There are narrow sections of the course where support cars are not allowed to stop though we worked out a location every 30-40km where I would meet them to hand over bottles and food. We also had a chance to practice the hand-overs which was hugely valuable. It turns out I am not a pro and cannot catch a full bottle while doing 30+kmph! The temperature at the port was 20 degrees when we left and as we drove the temperature slowly dropped as we climbed to 4 degrees in the mountains, with wind chill on top of this, a really helpful thing to note during our reccy for layering on race day.
The last few days pre-race were filled with registration, an athletes meet-up swim, a race briefing, resting and lots of eating. For anyone who needs some guidance on how to carb load properly I would advise the Precision Hydration guide here (How to carb load).
Race day started with a 1:30am alarm after a restless night sleep and to the sound of heavy rain on the roof which did nothing to settle the nerves. We drove 40minutes to the port for 3:00am to be met with an icy wind blowing off the fjord which left me shivering even with all my warm clothes on. The overnight rain had flooded a good part of transition though as we arrived early we managed to grab a dry spot near the bike exit and with a good amount of room for changing.
At 4:00 the athletes lined up on the port to be counted onto the ferry, once on board there is no option to back out of the swim, the ferry does not return so nerves were mounting as we trooped up the ramp into an empty, windswept car ferry. As the ferry does not return any kit taken onto the ferry does not get returned to you. I had opted to wear a bin-bag to keep the wind off which I was very grateful for though looking around I cold see others had opted for warm hats, slippers and even some dressing-gowns, all of which were good ideas and I was rather jealous as I huddled in a stairway to keep out of the wind, standing on an old pallet to keep my feet off the cold floor. The ferry took a good hour to reach the swim start and as we got close the crew of the ferry pulled out sprinkler hoses and rained icy water down onto the deck so we could all get our kit wet and get ready for the swim. The organisers got everyone into a huddle for a warm up, shouting, singing and a lot of ‘chest-beating’ to get everyone pumped as we neared ‘The Jump’.
The ferry ramp was lowered all the way to water level to let the safety kayaks into the water. Once all launched, the ferry ramp was raised back, leaving us with a 3-4m jump into the water. Its at this point you realise the jump isn’t essential, instead they make you do the jump on purpose!
It was go-time. The ferry keeps moving slowly with the tide and so the later you jump the further you swim. I lined up in the first quarter and waited my turn. We had been well briefed; step forwards, check you aren’t going to fall on anyone and then jump, “if you don’t jump we will push you.” Hold onto your goggles and hold your breath.
I don’t remember hitting the water or swimming away from the boat, I don’t even remember it being that cold, maybe because I held a pee in for the whole 1h ferry ride. I swam away from the ferry and took a minute to look around at the boat, the swimmers with their lit-up swim buoys still jumping in, the first light of morning and then at the surrounding snow-capped mountains. As swims go this was by far the most dramatic and will stay with me for a long time.
At the sound of the ferry horn we set off. I was keen to get this done and out of the cold ASAP so didn’t hold back, finding some feet near the front of the pack and sitting on them like glue. The pace was good and for the first half I was cruising, loving having a good draft and saving energy with no sighting needed. We hadn’t been told by the organisers, but the swim had been shortened to 3km as we were heading into a strong outgoing tide. As we neared the turning point around a small fishing boat the chop picked up and the going became really tough, with the last kilometre of the swim really pushing me mentally and physically to keep with the small pack. I drank quite a lot of sea water and found it really hard to stick on the feet in front of me as we were washed around by the waves. I was grateful to reach the dock, climbing up a vertical cargo-net and into T1 in fifth place, 52minutes, on par with previous full 3.8km swims.
I jogged into the transition area to find my bike, full of adrenaline and warm water in my wetsuit. Dad helped to peel off the thermal wetsuit, neoprene vest, rash vest, hood, gloves and boots at which point the wind hit me and I was instantly freezing. I did a full kit change (nudity is not frowned upon in S.America though I wished there weren’t quite so many drones flying around) into bike kit that had been wrapped around a hot water bottle and slipped socks and shoes on that had been pre-warmed with hand-warmers, proper toasty! A few mouthfuls of coffee and I was off onto the bike, pedalling hard up the hill out the dock to fire up the legs and get warm.
I rode the course on an Argon 18 E117 with an 80mm deep rear and a 50mm deep front wheel to reduce the effect of cross winds. I had butchered my rim-brake bike, adding a disc-brake front fork to help with stopping in the wet as the rear brake is basically useless on carbon wheels. I opted for tubeless Vittoria Corsa Pro Control TLR race tyres which have added puncture protection on the gravel. Overall, it was a fairly aero yet heavy set-up and not perfect for a hilly course though it was the best I had.
The first 60km were a dream, there was a strong tailwind and the roads are fairly flat and well paved, running along the Rio Simson river valley, with great views along the way. The rain stopped and the sun came out so I ended up melting hot rather than cold, dropping my raincoat and thick gloves after around 40km. I navigated the gravel sections with no punctures opting to take the time penalty of riding more slowly but reducing the risk of flats or crashing. The cobble sections were bike-shaking though all bolts had been tightened and all toolboxes taped shut after the reccy so these were passed with no upsets and no lost kit. Passing Cohaquie the road heads south so you lose the tail wind and the proper climbs start. These roads are fairly open and windswept so it was head down and manage the effort grateful to the hours of training holding an aero position for this very reason.
Feed stops with my support crew every 30-40km went well, with a bottle grabbed from dad and then a bar/gel/chew from my mum 30m further down the road. At 100km all was going well, I dropped leg-warmers in a short stop and grabbed another aero bottle filled with a potent mix of electrolytes (I have stuck a nutrition section in at the end if you have any interest in my feeding strategy).
The climbs after 100km really started to bite and the headwind was getting stronger. The temperature began to drop as expected and I was glad I had kept a windproof jersey and thin gloves on to keep me fairly comfortable. My last feed stop was at 135km due to a slight mix-up in stopping location. This didn’t really matter in terms of drink and food as I had spare on the bike though my lowest point hit at around 150km as the gradient and wind took their toll. I had underestimated the value of food to look forwards to rather than food as fuel and wished I had a mini-snickers or something more exciting to look forwards to and to work towards at a certain mile-point.
The final 15-20km of the ride are FAST, pretty much all downhill and arse-clenchingly scary as you try to make up for all the time lost on the climb especially when riding a bike with only one working brake that will send you over the bars if you get too greedy. The scenery flashing past was out of this world though I had little time to look, the cross winds were howling at this point adding a bit of extra spice to the cornering as well as making this decent freezing cold.
I don’t ride with a power meter and don’t really follow metrics other than distance and time so this was a ride based on ‘feel’, aka ride hard though not too hard. I hop-scotched a few times with other riders though this was generally a solo effort with no company, and I rode into Villa Cerro Castillo in 6th place after 6h on the bike, an average speed of 28.4km/h and a max speed of 75.2km/h.
T2 was a park bench. Mum and Dad had laid my kit out and I went for another full kit strip into running gear, applying Vaseline in chafing areas just as the film crew came over for a short interview (strangely I haven’t made it onto the promo film).
With a total of 21km of running training in my legs I was somewhat concerned about this part of the race. I like to think that I can grit my teeth and get through most things though I really was worried that this might be a step to far.
The sky by this point was cloudless, with temperatures hitting 22 degrees, a far cry from Banbury in early December. The views looking back to Cerro Castillo mountain range were stunning and I did my best to enjoy them as I headed off on the sun-baked dirt roads before turning off up onto sandy singletrack, winding up into the hills through the brush. My Achillies injury generally held up fairly well though my calves protested at the climbing and my back was on fire from cycling hills for hours. With the mantra ‘No one ever dies just from pain’ I forced myself to keep trudging on, getting overtaken by another Brit just before the river crossing. I had planned to take my shoes off for this though as he was just ahead of me I ploughed in after him, enjoying the brief cooling off and dunking my visor and sweat bands.
After 10km we were back onto gravel roads and I suffered on to the aid station at 20km though shortly after this I hit a bad patch and was more walking than running. I was caught by another runner and, when I said I was in a bad, way he said ‘run with me’. I ran with Emile, a French athlete for the next 10km and he truly saved my race. Keeping pace with him and chatting the whole way made it so much easier and I am truly grateful to him for not just running past and leaving me to suffer, a really friendly gesture. This is definitely a lesson I will take from this and hopefully I can pass on the favour to another struggling athlete in future races.
We jogged into the 30km aid station where my dad was waiting with fresh bottles and food. Supporters could run with the athletes from here to the end so dad started jogging with me though even in my haggard state he was struggling to keep up (he is 74). In the end he took the shuttle back to the finish line while I shuffled on. I caught back up with Emile and his support runner at around 35km and whilst I was running faster by this point I couldn’t overtake the guy who had been so kind to me an hour earlier, instead opting to jog along with them for the final stretch. As my watch hit 42km we turned onto a long, straight road which seemed to dip towards the horizon, where the F’ was the finish line?! This final road took forever but finally we made it to the finishers gate with Emile rightfully taking 8th while I came in 9th. I was truly broken.
Hanging above the gate is the Patagonman bell which every finisher rings as they cross the line a small but very welcome sign that you have finished the race and that the pain can stop. We were given a medal made of a large chunk of Chilean copper embossed with a Condor, and an ice-cold pint of D’Olbek beer, given to every finisher by the owner of the local D’Olbek brewery. Probably the worst recovery drink but by far the most welcome.
After this I bundled into the car to eat cold pizza while my tireless support crew drove the 174km drive back to the hotel rounding out a flipping long day. I am not sure who has the harder job on these days, the athlete or the support! It is a thankless task and one it is easy to underappreciate. Either way I am incredibly grateful to my parents for putting in the time and energy to support me on this journey which I could not have completed without them.
This is the most epic event I have ever entered and it is going to be a pretty hard one to beat. I would encourage everyone to enter the ballot. It will not be easy, just getting on the ferry is an achievement in itself but I promise you that what you take away from this event is worth every cold dunk in a lake, every mile on the bike and every early-morning alarm for training!
If you need a support crew, please give me a ring.
REGISTRATION FOR 2025 IS OPEN (though not for long) click here
Caroline Livesey made a documentary of the race so you can see get a feel for the 2024 event and what I went through here click here
Nutrition
I am sure most people won’t be interested in this part, though of all the disciplines of the race this is the one where I was most scientific and put in a lot of thought to what might work.
Pre-swim
Bike
Bottles swapped in every hour plus a gel/chew
Average 750ml/hour, 110g carbs/hour, 1080mg salt/hour and 280g caffeine using a mix of:
Run
Average 500ml/hour, 80mg carbs/hour, 500mg salt/hour, 200mg caffeine
Post Race
If you are taking on a long-distance event particularly in a hot climate I do recommend booking a Precision Hydration sweat test. The range of salt concentrations from a group of 5 of us went from 300mg/L up to 1200mg/L and this information was vital to ensure that I replaced what I lost during the race click here
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