Mist lay on the fields and waters. Kelmscott, peaceful and quiet. An early morning dog walker trotted after their companion through the dew. The sleepy village was quite unaware of who or what was about to arrive. Duncan was first there. Heading the set-up team beginning at 6.50am laying out route markers and signs, setting up transition and laying carpet. Max and his boat arrived shortly afterwards and began assembling. Marshals were arriving like bees to the nest and soon transition was a hive of activity.
Competitors began to arrive. Henry was first there, breakfast in hand, untouched. Much back-slapping and true water-beast greetings met each familiar face and some excellent new ones. Teo and his children’s wetsuit, Caspar, the Eds, Becky, Coxy, Kat, Alex, Jonny, Tim so many more, they were all there, even old Big Balls Bayly, and then Jeremy the White Fang arrived. White Fang, nominated to be the leader of the pack, the first released. In true white fang style it emerged that Jeremy’s bike had arrived with a lock around the wheels and no key to be seen. WHITE FANG.
Transition buzzed with activity, preparations were underfoot. Bikes checked, helmets carefully placed, trainers brushed. Athletes fussed around their allocated transition areas. Nervous drone of chit chat. At one end, the Seal Elites and Beasts, measured, careful in preparation, minimal equipment, heart rate low. At the other, the Pigs were running wild, confused, panicked, talk of talc, nose-clips and gloves, gobbling flapjacks and Lucazade like sweet nectar. White Fang’s bike was still locked to itself. Anthony had not managed to locate a wetsuit, a pair of pink shorts for him this chilly Autumn morn. Like larvae the sea creatures slipped on their wetsuits and swarmed around the briefing area. Instructions were handed out. Nods of agreement. Nerves spilled out as chuckles. 24 sea dogs all present.
The march down to the swim start was fast-paced as people were keen to get started. Electrocutions were kept to a minimum and as far as we are aware no-one urgently needed the cover of bushes – an improvement on last year. A quick team photograph with Henry quite unexpectedly sprinting off into the distance for no clear reason. Nerves aplenty among the weaker swimmers. 3 men stood around chatting only to realise that pools of urine were gathering at the tallest man’s feet.
The hour approached. The pigs were released into the water kicking and screaming. Splashing around like buffalo. Then White Fang was set loose on the course, followed seconds later by the thrashing pigs. The 600m winding river swim was cold but clear and clean. Perfect. Once the pigs were off the Cucumbers slithered into the ink and before they knew it they were on their way.
The Monsters followed, then the Beasts and then the Seals! Each group setting off at speed for this short swim, some like they had outboard motors, others like they were trying to run through a heavily laden washing line. The rescue boat chugged along keeping a keen eye out for struggling fish. Marshals patrolled the banks shouting encouragement. Bend after bend, the flow faster out in the middle but cutting corners tempted the swimmers.
Out of the swim, off comes the suit. Run 200 metres on gravel up the path to transition. Transitions varied from the fast: drop suit, helmet on, shoes clipped in, off – to the slow: drop suit, dry off feet, gloves, socks, towel, glasses, flapjacks, double check working bell on bike, off. Timings were kept accurately by the marshals and the first morning wanderers of the village saw 24 animals in varying positions on colourful contraptions zooming out of the village and onto the 22k flat as a butcher’s back bike course. Ed Smith’s fast swim had quickly put himself into the lead, overtaking the Pigs early in the ride. The other Cucumbers began to catch the pigs and begin to reel in the front runners Smith and Mag. The Monsters, Beasts and Elites screamed onto the course slowly bringing the bunch together.
Ant Maguire was slipping back, still wearing his pink shorts. Bayly grinning. The two turning points allowed for regular checks to tell who was positioned where. Cheery smiles were met with the smallest flick of the eye balls. Smith-Willis, Bates, Humphreys, Prestidge were reeling them in.
Ed Smith and Maguire finished the bike with a quick turn around into the 5.4 run. Quickly followed by two duelling Humphreys and a bunch including quipping Lloyds, Barker, Smyth and the run truly began. Down along the river, through the fields, turning back into the village and back to Transition before the shorter lap 2. All were on the run course now. Locals were out to watch, old men shouted confused and mildly racist comments. Ed S got diverted and ended up in a field and lost his lead to Jeremy Lloyd who was joined by Smyth and William.
The fast runs of Henry, Keir, Jonny and Hadbox were clawing in the rest in. Lap 2 saw 5 in the front group, back along the water and up into the village and with only a 1k to go William strode away with the strongest legs to be the first over the line. The bunch finished shortly after with each of the creatures finishing strongly. Bayly looked great. Ian had no top on. Chris looked insane. All were accounted for apart from Ant Maguire. He finished last, like a hero, waving and cheering to the crowd in his pink pantaloons, a wet Kris Akabusi. Backslapping. Handshakes. Joy.
To the pub. Packing burgers into their colons the athletes celebrated at the Plough Inn. Roman handed out the lovely blue Tshirts while stories were shared and musings about the order of the day. Who had the fastest time? Who would be the new White Fang? Did anyone soil themselves? Another briefing and a goodbye to a few but the evening dinner beckoned.
The guests arrived at the Manor. Pimms and wine. 19th-century explorers was the theme in honour of Sir Walrus and his band of adventurers all those many long years ago. A tour of the manor preceded dinner. Then the awards and the entertainment. It emerged that, as suspected, Jonny Longshanks had won the day for a second year in a row. Great performances by William H, James B, Ed H and Becky S put them in line for the Walrus Excellence award but William took the award for his great performance and being the first over the line. The White Fang award was triumphantly awarded to Anthony Maguire. He is charged with protecting the award until next year when he will present it to its new owner. A true White Fang he was.
The Crones of Wolvercote provided the entertainment with sing-songs galore and a reading from the diary of Simon Grundlethorpe, long time companion of Sir Walrus. Taxis arrived at 10pm and we hurried down to meet them. Max was sent to bed. TO THE KINGS ARMS. Solid ale and singing all night. By the time we were done it was 1am, the day had begun at 6am for most. An incredible end to an incredible day.