Crater Rim Ultra 2024 : The Biggest Little Race Around

Turn Downhill for What?  The 2024 Crater Rim Ultra – Dirt Church Radio 299. 

Kia ora e te whanāu. This week we bring you some of the action from the Crater Rim Ultra. A Grass Roots race with Champagne Hills. We speak with Dwight Grieve, Emma Timmis, Vicky Havill, Grant Guise, Chris Pike, Rocky Walker, and Rebecca Short about this super challenging event that brought out over 1000 people into the hills of Ōtautahi for a stunning day of mountain running.  Dirt Church Radio - Best Enjoyed Running.

Enjoy!

Music by Andrew McDowall, Digicake

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Available from the DCR website

Our mates at Squadrun have come up with a special four-week training trial for listeners of DCR. Now as you’ll know from listening to DCR over the years, Squadrun is the baby of Kerry Suter and Ali Pottinger, and they have coached thousands of runners to success at a bunch of events we love and cherish and if you’ve been to any trail races on either side of the Tasman you’ll have seen the squadrun colours being represented strongly. So, if you want to give it a crack, here’s the link.

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Where we’re headed:

29 October: DCR Live Show and Q&A ft Inia Raumati talking all about his quest to run 8 Races on 8 Continents this year, Small Goods Taproom, Mt Eden, or livestreamed on YouTube (thanks to Runners with Beards). Kick off 7 pm. All proceeds go to Kia Mau, Kia Ora. Tickets here.

December: Matt’s heading back to the mighty Kepler Challenge in Te Anau. Entries open July 6. Don’t miss out!

Get Out And Fill Some Bottles - An Ode To The Joys of Crewing 

- Matt

Vibes on at 20km into the Crater Rim Ultra

Even by my meager standards of racing, 2024 has been a year of events. So far this year, I’ve done the Riverhead Relaps backyard ultramarathon, The Skeddadle -  a brutal trail marathon in Canterbury - and the 43km WUU2k - which was brutal but for different reasons. Then we went to the Blue Mountains for the Firies Climb, which was a quad-trashing good time. I’m closing the year out with the 8-hour Rage Against Riverhead and then hopping on a plane to go to The Snowy Mountains to work at Ultra Trail Kosciuszko and jump into the 30km. 

This has been undertaken in a year of massive change for Dirt Church Radio, holding down a full time job, traveling to events to commentate, family commitments, and training for Tarawera in February. This is a lot. 

To be clear, when say “a lot” what I mean is “a lot of fun” “a lot of privilege” “a lot of I-can’t-believe-I-get-to-do-this” and a lot of appreciation that this hasn’t been, and might not always be the case. So whilst it’s in front of me I’m going to grab it with both hands. 

The above also is a lot of work, and as fun as it all is, it can be tiring, and perspective can be lost. Running is a repetitive endeavour, and as much stoke as you have, sometimes that repetition can become repetitive. But please, if there is anyone finding themselves thinking “must be nice”, mō taku hē, circle back to the above paragraph. I ain’t moaning. 

Going to running events is one of my favourite things to do. The big ones are like running away to join the circus, all your friends are there and normal everyday life is suspended for the period of time that you get to spend away. Everything is exciting, and you come back exhausted and wistful. The smaller ones are inspiring and you get to see the depth and engagement of a few committed souls and the community of supporters that can put an event on often on the smell of an oily rag. 

Crater Rim Ultra feels like a mix of both big and small. A resolute grassroots event with lots of flags at the finish line (guaranteed to make anything look proper, a flag) and the grandness and difficulty of the surrounding Port Hills. The event has gone through many iterations in its 18-odd year history, however with a new committee and focus it’s settled on five distances, from 6km to the 53km ultra-marathon. Rebecca had signed up to do the biggie six months ago and had been training up a storm until a twisted ankle on the Six Foot Track put paid to any longer runs for the last six weeks. 

The last week leading up to the race had been a mixture of the usual nerves plus the added stress of a very well-rehabed but recently sprained ankle and the doubts about the lack of running that had been undertaken. All very reasonable stuff, and because of this I felt an added responsibility to make every aid station visit as smooth as possible for my old mate. 

Dropping Rebecca off at the Lyttleton Ferry the morning of the race, I felt only a sense of excitement. Both for Rebs, who is tough as they come and would no doubt knock the bastard off, and for the fact that I would get to rip around and see her and the other racers at the aid stations. 

We parked up at the 20km mark for the first crew accessible aid station and waited for Rebs to show. God, Did I mention how much I love being at races? Seeing the runners come through in varying states of composure and purpose, the music, and the simple fact of telling complete strangers how tough and cool they look. 

Once, at Tarawera Ultra Marathon (as it was then known) Andrew McDowall, in training for a Northburn/UTMB double, would jump out of the bushes at the Redwoods aid station and essentially pimp himself out for pacing the final 7km. Then, he’d run back and repeat the process. In this way, Andrew got a nice long run in and helped people out at the same time. Taking a leaf out of his book (without actually jumping out the bushes) whilst I waited for my dear I wandered down to where the drop bags were to enquire politely if I could be of any help to anyone as there were a couple of runners I knew who didn’t have crew. 

Of course she did

Despite an early wobble of nearly zipping one of  Vicky Havill’s dreadlocks into her pack things went pretty smoothly and it felt awesome to help a couple of people put things in the right place and get out of the aid station without having to bend down so many times. Rebecca came in all smiles, if not a bit in shock at the amount of climbing she’d just done, and was in and out with a bottle change. Easy days. 

Shortly after, standing in traffic in a loaned high viz (thanks Conrad!!) trying to remember who gives way to whom and hoping not to get run over, our friend’s car having unexplainably overheated on the way up to The Sign of The Kiwi. Managing to not die, and having our friend summon aid from her husband, I was off up the summit road with all the crew gear and my Crocs to hike it up to meet our heroine.