"I'm Sorry"
Posted by Jeremy Windsor on Apr 15, 2022
On the 22nd May 2021, 21 runners died during a 100km ultramarathon.
It seems unfathomable, but it's true.
As 172 athletes lined up at the starting line of the Yellow River Stone Forest event in north west China, they had little idea of what they would encounter just a few hours later. Writing on social media the next day, ultrarunner Zhang Xiaotao described what happened next...
"I and the other runners arrived at the site yesterday at 7:30 a.m. for some preparations. At that time, the wind was blowing and the temperature was quite low. Since the race was held in a scenic area, we were able to warm ourselves and take rest in a small shop beside the scenic area. We began the race at 9:00 a.m. The wind was still strong, and many runners lost their hats to its powerful gusts. But for the first 20 kilometers of the course, conditions were still normal.
The event took place in a remote part of China's Gansu Province. Starting at 1358m, the route ascended to a height of 2230m. Much of the circular route was on established paths, however waymarking was often limited. Marshalling was restricted to only the most accessible checkpoints. Mobile phone coverage was often patchy. Warm temperatures had been recorded during previous races and runners had set off in shorts and running vests. Assuming the conditions would be similar to previous years, organisers had arranged to carry windproofs and warm clothing to Checkpoint 6 the night before the race
Things started to go wrong after the second checkpoint. I was toward the very front of the pack. When I arrived at the second checkpoint, it was starting to rain. I continued running along the Yellow River for some distance and then started uphill. The stretch of course between checkpoints 2 and 3 is basically all ascent. This is where the tragedy was to unfold.
When I reached the foot of the mountain, it was already windy and rainy, but the conditions intensified as I continued uphill. I was halfway up the mountain when hail started to fall. My face was pummeled by ice and my vision blurred, making it difficult to see the path clearly. At that point, I overtook a runner named Huang Guanjun. I greeted him, but he responded simply by pointing to his ears and waving, meaning that he couldn't hear me. Later I learned that Huang was deaf.
There was another runner I'd been keeping pace with since the starting line, Wu Panrong from Guizhou province. When we were halfway up the mountain, Wu began to shake all over and his voice trembled when he spoke. Noticing what a state he was in, I put my arm around him and we continued together. After that, I don't remember things very clearly. The wind was so strong and the road was so slippery that we couldn't continue holding onto each other or we would have both fallen down. Gradually we became separated. I thought things would be OK if I could just reach the other side of the mountain, so I ran as quickly as possible. At the time, I should have been in fourth place, followed by Wu and Huang. Sadly, I was the only one to survive out of the first six runners".
In a report issued the day before the race, the provincial meteorological bureau had issued warnings for, "sudden heavy showers, hail, lightning [and] gusts". These struck shortly after the leading runners had passed Checkpoint 2 and were heading to the summit of Mijiashan Hill (2230m) and Checkpoint 3. Only a small number of marshals had been positioned at these checkpoints
As I continued to ascend, I wrestled against the force of the wind, falling down at least 10 times. I could feel my body growing stiff, and I was gradually losing control over my limbs. Finally, I fell down and couldn't get back up. I quickly covered myself with an insulation blanket, took out my GPS tracker and pressed the SOS button. After that I lost consciousness.
I spent approximately two and a half hours like that before a passing shepherd came across my unconscious body. The man carried me on his shoulders to a cave where he made a fire to warm me, took off my wet clothes and wrapped me in a quilt. I came too about an hour later. By that time, there were other runners keeping warm in the cave as well. None of them were in a very serious condition. Because our location was difficult for the rescue workers to reach, the other runners had been waiting for me to wake up so that we could descend the mountain together..."
A local shepherd, Zhu Kemling spotted a number of stricken runners close to a cave that he used to store emergency clothes and food. He was able to escort 5 runners to the shelter and was able to carry Zhiang, who later wrote, "I want to say how grateful I am to the man who saved me," going on, "Without him, I would have been left out there...". Despite his bravery, Zhu would later say, "There were still some people that could not be saved ... There were two men who were lifeless and I couldn't do anything for them. I'm sorry"
Zhu was one of many who helped that day. News quickly spread and residents from nearby Changsheng rushed to the scene with food and warm clothing. Members of Blue Sky Rescue, a private company tasked with event safety, were mobilised and sent out to recover stranded runners. At some point, the fire and rescue services were called and by the end of the day, hundreds had descended on the Yellow River Stone Forest to help. However by then it would be too late - no fewer than 21 runners had died.
Clearly, some very serious mistakes had been made. Warm conditions in previous races had led organisers to relax their rules on carrying emergency kit. Instead, athletes had been allowed to depart with just a thin space blanket for protection. Much of what was needed had instead been transported by race officials to CP6 - a location almost 50km away from where it was needed. Instead, dozens of runners, dressed in minimal clothing, were caught out in a freezing storm on a steep mountainside.
Unfortunately the effect of the weather was made worse by a lack of infrastructure between CP's 2 and 3. Marshals were largely absent on this part of the course and therefore there was noone available to gauge the risks to athletes and initiate a prompt and effective evacuation. It is sobering to think that when the weather hit on the steep slopes of Mijiashan Hill, key decision makers were more than 2 hours away.
According to another competitor Zhang Xiaotao, “At the bottom of the mountain there was already wind and rain, and the higher you climbed the bigger the rain and wind got". He went on to write, “Halfway up, the rain started to mix with hail and kept smashing into my face, and my eyes started getting obscured and blurry. A few places, you couldn’t make out the route clearly..."
Mistakes like this often have a much wider context and I'd strongly recommend reading Will Ford's account on the brilliant Outside Online website. In it, he highlights the role of politics,
"Politicians see other countries hosting competitions and, not to be outdone, organize their own, sometimes one-upping each other by increasing race distances and elevation gains. Every county in China now seems to host a race, and organizers from the country's entrepeneurial class have risen quickly to chase after government and sponsor contracts"
But, and here's the but, with such enthusiasm has come risk. With as many as 3000 races taking place in China each year, Ford quotes one race organiser who says,
“I think what is happening is that there is a lot of enthusiasm for mountain sports, and now the demand is outstripping the supply of expertise..."
Let's hope that the deaths in Gansu will prompt the Chinese government to issue clear guidelines and adequate training to prevent anything like this from happening again.
Further images and video footage can be found here.
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15/04/2022 @ 07:06:59
Very sobering and important lessons learned. What a hero Zhu Kemling is! Thanks for sharing.
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