Terra Incognita: Trekking Through a Mine Field - May 25, 2004
"You must stay on the marked road during this section," warned race director Simun Cimerman, "if you must pee, pee on the road. Do not under any circumstances step off the pavement." These were just the beginning of the warnings about some of the most dangerous hazards that would be facing the 25 teams competing in the 2004 Terra Incognito Adventure Race in Croatia.
"On the mountain trek," Simun continued, "stay on the marked path. Both sides of the mountain are mined, plus," he paused "we don't want anyone straying into Bosnia. We can't get you back."
Adventure races are difficult enough without having to worry about unexploded ordinances and hostile militants, but this was all part of what 26 teams from 17 different countries signed up for when they arrived in Croatia last month for the most epic race of the year. I can lay claim to this bold statement because I was there. Not only was I there with my team, but we were also the only Americans in the race. In fact, the only other American in the country, or at least it seemed, was a Colorado-based adventure photographer named Corey Rosen who was dispatched to cover this race in the Balkans.
So there we were, sitting in the ancient village of Omis being briefed 24 hours prior to the start of the race. The warnings of mines and distant borders seemed to flow in and out of my consciousness, but it did not linger long. It was really hard to concentrate on any single thing while so many other senses were being stimulated to the max. I mean, my eyes were amazed at my surroundings. As I sat and listened my pupils scanned the clear blue waters of the Adriatic Sea. There was a slight chop in the water, but it was amazingly calm. Almost too calm. My ears processed the distant bursts of singing and laughter emitting from the nearby 1500-year-old village square. Were those the voices of the next generation of Croatians or some distant lingering echoes from its volatile past? My nose picked up the smell of cool air as it blew down the steep slopes of the nearby mountains, gently warning me that sea level was pleasant, but at altitude there was going to be trouble. Lastly, my palms felt clammy with sweat as I contemplated the task being laid out in front of me. As I wiped my palms on my pant legs, I thought about the many hands I had shaken over the past several hours. There had been Jean Paul from France, Keith from the UK, Luc from Slovenia, Lisa from New Zealand, Matt from Hong Kong, and a few Finnish guys whose names I still can't pronounce and who I ended up collectively calling "The Fins."
One of my pre-race fears was how we, as Americans, were going to be received by our fellow racers. Normally at least half the field in an adventure race is American but for some reason, we were the only ones there. But our fellow racers could not have been more gracious. They could have cared less about the goings on in Iraq. And even if they did care, they did not hold us, two Georgians, one Floridian, and one Minnesotan accountable for our countries actions. I had heard horror stories about recent travelers being severely lectured my local Europeans while overseas, but there, in Omis, on the eve of a huge race, the comradery could not have been more gentile. We were what we were...a fraternity and sorority of restless souls whose sense of wanderlust had brought us to this distant location to embark on another adventure. Our collective goal, our common desire, our unique passion revolved around one thing. Getting to the Adventure Line as quickly as possible. Notice I did not say finish line. Anyone can reach a finish line eventually, but an adventure line is the finish of an extraordinary achievement. To reach the adventure line, you must be brave, bold, determined, willing to suffer, love, sacrifice, and bleed. This was our common bond. And that is exactly what we did.
The one thing I quickly learned was that the weather was extremely fickle. The mornings were cold. Very cold. When the sun would peak the mountains around 12:00 PM, it would get hot. Very hot. Then around 4:40 PM, as the sun dropped behind the mountains, it got cold again. Very cold. Throw in a few gusts of 30 mph winds, and it was super cold. Cut the wind out completely in the middle of the day, and it became super hot. So when I looked at my bulging pack wanting to toss out some weight, I realized most of the bulk was from cloths packed to accommodate these extremes swings in climate. This way of working with and around the weather followed us throughout the course. The ocean swims mercifully came in the middle of the days when we could not wait to jump in the cold freezing sea. Climbing up the highest peak in Croatia and working up a solid sweat in the process was nicely contrasted to the two feet of snow present at the summit of the 6500-foot mountain. The hours spent white water paddling during the day were dreadfully hot, but the class four flip overs into 42-degree water were enough for us to instantly pray for the hot sun again.
The extreme weather changes were not however overshadowed by the extremes in landscapes. From the razor sharp stones of the outer islands to the slippery flat rocks of the coastline proved extremely taxing on the ankles. The gentle slopes of the mountain bike legs quickly became 8 degree ascends and descends sometimes within the same mile. The soft green hiking trails of the lower elevation mountains turned into frozen ground as solid as granite the higher we climbed. And all of this happened sometimes within the same hour.
But what was the most interestingly complex were the checkpoint locations. I don't know about you, but cruising up to a 1000-year-old castle to get the old passport stamped was all most too surreal. However, that was topped by checkpoint along rivers where no one but us had been allowed to paddle in over 35 years. Then there was the checkpoint right in the middle of one of the most fierce battle fields of the Balkan wars complete with fox holes, bombed out cars, and spent rifle cartridges.
However, the most extreme of all I encountered during this race was the traces and contrasts of humanity. The warmth of the people in Omis and Split was remarkable. They are physically some of the most beautiful people in the world. Their food and graciousness were most delightful, and their openness and hospitality were something I have rarely encountered. However, peddling through the abandoned villages in Northern Croatia and witnessing first hand the remains of the ethnic cleansing of the 1990s was a contrast I could hardly bare to conceive. How could a country filled with such charm, grace, and beauty be capable of such atrocities?
But then, it it hit me hard. I had to quickly learn not to hold the Croatian people accountable for their government's past policies in the exact same way I had expected my fellow racers not to hold me accountable for my countries. This was a lesson learned well and driven deep into my very essence.
In the end, we, Team Terra Discovery, finished the race in 17th place. Our team name means discovering the land. However, we not only discovered some of the most beautiful landscape in the world, but we also discovered something far deeper. We discovered a people beautiful in spirit, a history worth preserving and learning from, and the discovery that humanity, even in the most remarkable locations, can indeed be cruel. We learned that the enduring hope and common goal for all of us, no matter what country, race, or political persuasion should be the equal chance of living in harmony and reaching that elusive Adventure Line.
by Jay B. Pichard, Team Terra Discovery
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