Picture the scene: you've entered a 160-km race in Mongolia and spent hours upon hours browsing and purchasing the kit you'll need. Then, after months of training and preparation, you arrive at your destination, 10,000 km from home, to find that the airline have lost your luggage with all your shiny new kit in it.
This is what happened to Peter Messervy-Gross back in March, when he travelled from the UK island of Jersey to Mongolia for Rat Race’s inaugural Mongol 100 – a multi-stage, 160-km race across the frozen Lake Khövsgöl by foot or bike. Temperatures could potentially plummet to -40ºC, so cold-weather gear was a must. But everything Messervy-Gross had bought for the trip was lost in Moscow.
Despite the lack of kit, he attempted the challenge in the clothes he had travelled in, including an old pair of denim jeans and a pair of battered brogue boots – and would you believe it, he completed it in just over four days. We caught up with the unlikely hero to ask what lessons he learned.
Some things are out of your hands
My friend Marcus and I checked in at Heathrow to fly to Mongolia via Moscow. His bag went on the conveyor belt, then my bag went on, same tags, same check-in, but his must have turned left and mine turned right. We found out that mine was lost in Moscow when we arrived in the Mongolian capital, Ulaanbaatar. They told us not to worry, that this sort of thing happens and that my bag would arrive the next day.
At that point there was still plenty of time for my bag to make it to camp. But it didn’t turn up and, a day before the race, a van pulled up with all the lost luggage – there were four others with lost luggage as well as me. And they unloaded four bags. My bag was the one that wasn’t there! The race briefing was the night before the race and I found it intense and intimidating. Seeing all these people who’d done adventure racing before nodding along sagely, being issued with the final checklist for the race. That’s when I thought, ‘Oh shit, I’ve got to do this thing in a pair of old boots and blue denim jeans.’
The weather could have been worse
I bought a hell of a lot of kit for the race. It’s a bone of contention with my wife, but I probably spent a couple of grand on new stuff. Temperatures could drop to -40ºC, so to prepare for that I needed some pretty serious cold-weather kit. Luckily, the temperatures didn’t get anywhere near that low for us, but it was very cold at night. The last day in particular a hint of wind came up and the temperature just plummeted to about -25ºC. I only had one pair of thin gloves with me, so I borrowed some old snowboarding mittens from someone. My hands started to freeze – if it had been much colder I wouldn’t have been able to stop them from freezing completely.
Not many places in Mongolia stock size 13 shoes
We found a department store in Ulaanbaatar that sold major brands. I was confident my bag would turn up at that point, so I thought just on the off chance my bag doesn’t turn up, maybe I should buy some more shoes. The shop had all the big-name brands, but none above size 11, and I needed a 13. But even then I thought the bag would turn up the next day so I wasn’t that bothered.
It took adaptation and small steps
I told the organisers I’ll just stroll along to the first checkpoint, which was 10km in. There was one guy on the trip who had big feet like me and he had a pair of giant Mongolian fur boots. He lent them to me, so I put them at the first checkpoint and thought I could switch into them if I was cold. My biggest worry was whether my feet would be too cold on the ice. I got to the first checkpoint, felt pretty good, so thought I may as well keep going, so I did and got to the second checkpoint. So I continued that small goal of getting to the next checkpoint.
Office shoes were hardier than he thought
The brogues were four years old, made by Joules. The furthest I’d ever walked in them was the office to the nearest bar – a very social pair of boots – but they held up amazingly well. I was travelling in a pair of regular socks on the plane, so I borrowed a pair of thick winter socks. Marcus loaned me a set of thermals – leggings and a top, plus I wore a couple of jackets I travelled in."
Pain was constant
The problem with the boots was they were tight – my feet swelled up on the walk, so they got tighter and tighter. I had some pretty decent blisters. I think the technical term is that I ‘degloved’ my little toe [where the skin comes off completely]. Everyone else had their bumps and bruises though, so I wasn’t too different.
His fellow competitors were amazing
Their reaction was phenomenal. Not to get a box of tissues and cry a river, but it was heartening to see the way others helped and offered stuff that was going to make me more comfortable but they would be more uncomfortable. They called me ‘The Rogue in Brogues’. On the final night they gave me an emergency safety kit as an award for doggedness and determination. The spirit of the group was amazing – everyone on the trip was there to have a blast and make the most of being out in the wilds of Mongolia.
It's spurred him on for more far-flung ultras
I'm so glad I stuck it out. I will be taking as much kit as I can on my body for any future adventure races. My advice if you are entering these kind of races abroad is to keep an eye on what is absolutely essential and, if possible, keep it on you. I will definitely be paying more attention to that in the future.
His achievement might be used for scientific analysis
The footwear company that kitted out the Everest summit team in 1953 got in touch with me to ask if they could have my boots for analysis. But I’ll probably just put them in a glass cabinet with a sign saying ‘Break glass in case of emergency’.