That's how creator & organiser Dave Fox-Pitt likes to describe this incredible race which is based in, on & around Loch Tay.
The Scotsman described it as "An event for eccentrics" - you make your own judgement !
This is the fourth year of the race, which is based on an invitational system of entry, & had thirty competitors making up 13 teams or two or three racers.

The day began with a 6am reveille courtesy of Louis Armstrong blasting out of the stereo, followed by one of the strangest breakfast scenes I've ever encountered - copious amounts of tea & porridge being consumed by an array of rubber suited men & the odd female or two.

The 7am plunge started on the south side of the Loch opposite the Lawers Hotel & took a direct route across to the shore down from the Horn Carver's workshop.

The quickest, oat-fuelled fetishist completed the mile(ish) crossing in less than twenty minutes, while yours truly floundered like a floundering thing with a degree in floundering from the University of Flounders in over forty minutes. After some (fully deserved) abuse & humiliation from my team "mate" along with tea & sympathy from the on-shore female marshals we headed up along side the Lawers Burn to the first check point on Meall Greigh (1001 mt). The hill run section takes in the seven Munros around & including Ben Lawers with a distance of 16 miles & 7000 plus feet of ascent.

The clag was down to about 750mt & to our delight at CP1 we caught up with two other teams. Even more pleasurable were the pained expressions of navigational uncertainty exacerbated by the frantic pressing of buttons on their GPS thingy gadgets. After taking a (manual) bearing we headed off into the mist with a casual "Good luck" to the others wondering if their superior stroke rate or bi-lateral breathing was going to be of any benefit to them over the next 13 miles.

Each team had to stay together on the hill as there was no safety cover/marshals at the CP's & we had to place a colour coded peg on each CP to prove our arrival at each. This gave us an immediate indicator as to our position & progress in relation to the other teams.

I was at a distinct advantage with my team-mate being such a navigational God - Snap decisions about route selection & bearings kept us moving without much delay proved a great asset all round the route. We handrailed the old Parish boundary fence along to Meall Garbh (1118 mt), skirted silently past two noisy teams in the poor vis & scrambling up the wonderful An Stuc (1118 mt) to find less pegs at the top gave us a tremendous lift. It was almost as much tactical as it was physical with the mind & body working in harmony to achieve the goal.

We passed another team on the next descent & when twenty or so metres ahead the clag once again became our friend by engulfing us in its large grey cloak shielding us from their following eyes. The Ben Lawers (1214 mt)/Beinn Ghlas (1103mt) motorway came & went followed by a tough ascent up the penultimate CP, Meall Corranaich (1069 mt). With only two teams ahead of us now I felt that no matter what happened after the hill run I had restored some pride & self-esteem since my impression of an aquatic sloth - although my team mate was quick to remind me of my ineptitude on the water as well as in it !

A very tricky descent & out of the cloud at last. Our luck was too good to be true - the second place team came into view further back & higher up than us, another tick for NavGod ! We descended to the dam at the southern end of Lochan na Lairige where a refreshments stall was being manned, sorry "personed" by the same ladies who were so desperate to drag me out of Loch Tay, de-rubber me & pour hot tea down my throat less than five hours previously. Cries of "YOU ?", "HOW ?", "WHAT !" rang out as they then proceeded to force feed us with Baxter's very thick & very chunky soup, choccie bars, tea & bananas.

Refuelling over, we took on Meall na Tarmachan (1044 mt) "direct". Back into the clag we came across a couple of groups of hill walkers who looked at as in that way, well, you know that way when you're in your shorts & vest & they're in every bit of Polartec & Gortex that they own - yep THAT way ! A rapid descent was called for if we were to catch the leaders & once back below the cloud base we had them in our sights, quaking or was it quacking in their Walsh's. Although seeing the shores of Loch Tay again reality dawned that the party was over & the hell that is canoeing was just about to slap me in the face with an big double-sided paddle thing - I can still feel the pain !

Carrying the canoe for a mile after nearly seven hours of effort was the most pleasurable part of the whole 10 mile leg & once in the water I knew that I had peaked (excuse the pun) on the hills. Never mind, we could just dig in & maintain a good rhythm & who knows what might happen - Yeah right & I'll sprout gills & do next years swim under water !! After an hour & realising that coma was just around the boredom corner it all went horribly wrong - The alternating paddle technique that keeps the plastic cigar going in a straight (ish) direction seemed to leave my body followed by all too regular spates of circulatory canoeing, interspersed with loud bouts of multiple expletives. If I'd had a teddy with me I'd have thrown it out of the canoe/cot & battered it senseless with the paddle. To add insult to injury five teams passed us in the second half of the leg, one team whipping along in some space-age machines with a rudder that they could control with foot pedals. I just wanted to be on an oversized trike with inflatable wheels rather than the dysfunctional cocoon I was in.

Yahoo the shore - I would have kissed it but there was a canoe in the way. A quick run up the track to the bikes & the feel of lycra was never so comforting as we raced of in a forlorn attempt to right the wrongs of the evil water. The 35 mile route around Loch Tay is quite undulating with a few good long pull-ups & the corresponding descents as well as being one of the most picturesque circuits on road. It felt wonderful - out of the saddle powering up the hills, stretched out flying the descents until I realised my team mate (or slacker as I re-christened him !!) was not in my turbulent slipstream. He had a puncture three miles into the ride & blaming his bike ("Bad workman...tools etc....") went past me on a replacement machine while I was waiting at Kenmore.

Having reeled him back in I decided to have a blast & wait for him in Killin where we would be nourished with a fish supper - ah, the food of champions ! I got there dreaming of the gastronomic delight to be greeted by a subdued support team informing me that the chippie van had run out of fish !! Life can be so cruel & yet so kind at the same time - After meeting up again & polishing off more than our fair share of coronary cloggers we decided just to amble the last ten miles side by side. Soon after our pact we passed a team struggling with a puncture (how careless !) & after having our polite offers of help declined we gently cruised around the next corner & went full tilt until the finish ! We ended up in fifth with a time just over twelve hours with the winners coming in after ten hours & forty five minutes.

After the obligatory ablutions we ate, drank & made merry with fireworks, barbeque, dancing, archery, clay pigeon shooting & more drinking. The next day was full of more "fun" water activities - powered boats, canoes (aghhh), water skiing, sailing. I stayed dry & shot some clay pigeons imagining them to be canoes - it was wonderful retribution !!