Spot the Snail in the Alps - Trail Verbier St. Bernard 2019

Hans, you sure this isn't yours?

In Verbier, Switzerland, I was most delighted to see this snail car, this little underpowered two cylinder 2CV, which has a 29hp engine and "accelerates" 0-60 in as little as 34 seconds. Still, it made the journey from the Netherlands to Verbier and somehow managed to climb a hill or two along the way. I was really hoping it belonged to Hans and his wife who managed to drive here from Amsterdam with a dog. In any case, if that snail car can make this journey, perhaps my turtle and I can also complete the TVSB 111k X-Alpine run.

What the heck is a TVSB you ask? No, it's not a disease you need to ask your doctor about. It's a trail race of course. It's quite famous in Europe and virtually unknown in the States. It's a top UTMB alternative as it's in the same region, crossing the same (French) Swiss areas that the UTMB does and adds some other epic climbs and trails that make this far more challenging. That it contains nearly the same amount of ascent and descent, 28,000 ft, as UTMB and Hardrock in a much shorter distance only tells part of the story. There are fewer aid stations and the trails are far far more technical requiring runners be experienced mountaineers. Most of that I knew on paper, but I'd find out soon enough what that actually meant on earth, ice and stone.

Le Chable

The view from Backpacker's Hostel and Bar 

Cable to Verbier looking down to Le Chable

Looking down the main drag in Verbier 

The race org is split between two towns separated by a cable car and 2000 ft of ascent. In the valley lies the historic town of Le Chable and perched halfway up the mountain lies the modern upscale ski resort town of Verbier. Registration pickup, what they call "numbers withdrawal" - took me a few weeks to figure that out - is in Le Chable.

Looking down on Verbier

Bike trails! 

Woooohhh! Indeed.

The race itself starts and ends in Verbier. Bring your spouse, he/she'll clean out your bank account in its shops, if only they weren't closed for the season. Your more idiot spouse might break his (no sense in pretending gender equality when I start with "idiot spouse") back on the downhill mountain bike trails.

I arrived into town on a Thursday and quickly took advantage of the cable cars that went farther up the mountain, stretching my legs on a short downhill jog. Though I took the easy scenic route, it still contained tricky steep sections that I managed with ease. Still got it, I said out loud to myself - the marmots here don't understand English anyway. 

Hans en ik, Hans and me, Hans et moi

Friday night was a bit of a mess. I had booked the option of camping at the stadium in Le Chable with other runners but found a backpackers hostel at the last minute. Good idea, I thought, especially as it turned out to be full of runners. In retrospect, I should have known idiots travel in packs. Though I took a brief nappy and went to bed early, I don't recall falling asleep for very long. At 2 o'clock in the morning, I had to make my way up the mountain. The race org suggested that I hitchhike. Sans sarcasm. But it took less than a minute as the first car stopped and a handsome Frenchman, Olivier, picked me up. What an auspicious beginning!

At the race start, I was hoping for some breakfast buffet or at least coffee. They had du rien - nothing. At least I had some bread and honey waffle with me. Real breakfast would wait until the first aid station, and hour and forty out. The race is a bit funny. It offers a 3AM start for us slowpokes and a 5AM start for others. Final cutoff is the same. The field was split nearly 50/50 and the race historically has a 50% finishing rate. I said to Hans that means everyone you're looking at is probably going to DNF and if you don't want to, then you should be faster than everyone else you see at the slow start. That wasn't the best motivational speech. The announcer had a far better Kipling poem ready at hand, typical French literary education on display.

Refilling at the fountain

With a trois, deux, et une, we were off. A mile run through town and then hit the hills. Steep little bastards, climbing 1000 ft in less than a mile, but manageable. Then came the long steep descent in the dark. This was more technical than most all trails I run. Narrow and distorted by tree roots, it took a lot of care, particularly if you wanted to pass someone, which I did several times. Still got it, I said, this time to myself. The rest of the trail was a runnable dirt road to the first aid station at the village of Sembracher where breakfast awaited. Tired from lack of sleep but overall feeling pretty good about myself. Like in most interesting race reports, the situation was about to go downhill, hard, fast and far. The things I go through for my readers.

From there we started the 6200 ft climb up to the top of Le Catogne. The first part of the climb is on steep dirt roads until we reached the next aid station. It might have been halfway up or two thirds, but definitely farther than I wanted. Didn't really matter anyway. Shortly after starting the climb, I was nearly vomiting, giving my stomach the heave ho. And it felt like an all night run. I tried to take a brief nap, but the constant repertoire of "ca va?" "Oui, seulement un petit pause" didn't really help me fall asleep, so I just zombie willed myself up the mountain. Go 2CV! In French, 2CV is often called deux chevaux (two horses), which sounds a lot like Duke cheveux (Duke's hair). Go hair! I knew I grew it long for a reason.

At the aid station, I took some fluids but could not eat, so I grabbed some snacks in a bag optimistically hoping my stomach would turn for the better. The trail now went above the treeline and got steeper and more technical, not that one could notice at my snail's pace. I did glance once that the trail, less than a foot wide was dug into the side of a steep mountain, a misstep potentially leading to a 300 ft slide over rolling rocks and into oblivion. Just enough time to reflect on life or shout obscenities, whatever your pleasure.

Now 4 hours into my run, I was getting passed by the lead runners from the fast group that started later and were only 2 hours into their runs. That's right, they were going twice my speed, 4CV? That would be cat hair. At least it gave me an excuse to stop frequently to make way for them to pass. 

Somehow my zombie shuffle got me to the summit and in a decent time to boot, right at the 35 hour pace time. You read that right, my goal time for 68 miles was 35 hours, not the typical 14-16 hours I manage for 100km at home. So some relief, if only for a moment. Ate two bits of biscuits and spotted the way down.

It's not fun without getting a little hurt 

Losers bus

Then the real downhills started, steep and sharp. A descent down 45% of a very narrow winding trail over a combination of loose rocks and dirt and jagged slates, and later a labyrinth of tree roots, going straight down or on switchbacks barely six steps long made for frequent jumping, stopping and downright stuttering performance on my part. Not that the mid-descent 500ft climb helped. It was a relief. I wasn't keeping up and soon found myself getting passed left and right. I didn't know if I should have used poles or not and my roomy Hoka shoes were definitely the wrong tool for the job. I was the wrong tool, too. I guess I don't got it anymore, or what I had to get wasn't worth getting when I got on these trails. Mein Gott! The trail was a real wake-up call, as much a shock to me as it would to a track 10k runner put on the Rut skyrace. A 4.4km descent, a little under 3 miles averaging 32%, which would've taken me 45 minutes on our first technical descent, this time took me 2 hours! 

Sarah surprises her dad, coming in 3 hours ahead of estimate! 

A French buffet, where it's perfectly acceptable to cut the cheese in line

Missed the cutoff at Champex Lac by the length of an Alpenhorn and my day was officially over. After less than 17 miles and 8 hours(!) I missed a cutoff. That's fine, not sure I had enough zombie in me to make the next climb, a +4300 ft butt smasher to the summit of Orny. I guess this day me not so Orny. Took the smelly shuttle bus back to Verbier and continued to wander around town like a zombie along with my DNFriends. Straciatella gelato, beer, a friendly puppy, a shower and food, I think in that order, and maybe the outcome isn't so bad. Emerging from the backpackers hostel on Sunday morning, it was cold and windy, which I love, but also thunderstorms, not so love. Yes, shocking, right? Some of you may think of me like a Chinese Thor, but haha, no. I am Korean. Regardless, I had an absolutely delightful time, using the bar set by Alex Honnold that free soloing El Cap is considered "delightful", and watched fellow countryman Sarah kick ass finishing in 28 hours. Another plus, I still have legs to explore more trails this week, maybe even the same trails I missed without the thunderstorms they're got on the race. Snail beats cat?

Some more pics from my DNF compensation hike the day after

Who said you can't make friends in a lift?

My next adventure awaits...