By far the most extreme, demanding, challenging assignment I’ve ever taken. This year’s Tropical Power Coast 2 Coast Adventure Race was the organisation’s biggest yet and it attracted competitors from as far away as Finland and New Zealand. Essentially the race is from Toco to Williams Bay, Trinidad, traversing the island from its East coast to the west (hence the name). What really poses a challenge however, is everything in between. And for me the challenge is: “how do you shoot that?” How do you follow a race that uses bikes, feet and kayaks and yet stay close to the front of the pack while carrying 2 camera bodies, 4 lenses, flashes, batteries and a bunch of other sensitive gear?

Answer? A lot of planning... I stayed Friday night in Grande Riviere in splendid comfort knowing what discomfort lay ahead! Early on Saturday morning I made my way to Toco lighthouse where I picked up with the film crew. We all shot from the back of a pickup which is standard fare for road races. Still the roads are bumpy and so is the pickup and I soon had braced myself against my bags rendering my supply of bananas, apple’s and granola into a homogenous mass of rancidity!

This leg was pretty uneventful except for one rider who looked up at the truck (parked at the far end of the bridge at Shark River) and touched his brakes gently only to find that his tires would find no traction on the metal bridge. He slid the length of the bridge on his back but came away relatively unharmed.

We drove like that to the check-point at Matelot where the athletes discarded their bikes and began their run into the forested north coast. This leg of the race is not accessible by vehicles of course and I had long considered how best to shoot the athletes as they burst out onto the beaches of Madamas and Tacarib... I couldn’t run with my gear - I’d soon be left behind. That’s where my boat crew comes in. Duane Kenny, Mark Mouttet and others braved the early morning boat launch in Chaguaramas and plowed through a big seasonal swell to meet me outside of Matelot fishing village. We motored to Madamas where Duane and I jumped in and swam through the shore-break with all of my gear in a waterproof bag. We took turns pushing the bag until a last wave slammed us onto the beach threatening to relieve us of everything, including the clothes we had on.

In Madamas we shot some of the athletes as they landed on the sand, blasted through the river, down the long beach and up the rocks at the western point. We ran the beach about three times, always shooting. It wasn’t the first time that we remarked that their should be a prize for photographers at the end of the race! Anyway... we shot some of the race leaders (except the New Zealander who is also the world’s #1 at this) before swimming back out to the boat. I am extremely grateful to Duane for assisting me throughout this whole shoot - it would have been virtually impossible without him and the others in the boat. Note: Duane, if we’d been hit by a hammerhead shark, I promise I would have whipped out a camera...

Back in the boat, we headed for Petit Tacarib where we repeated the whole process (by now I was starting to tire and I was feeling for the runners). I was starting to get inquisitive glances from the athletes who obviously had no idea how I could shoot them again - having passed me in Madamas. I wondered if some of them thought that the heat was getting to their heads - I must have been a mirage (a dripping wet, half naked mirage... with a camera).

By now I realised that the waterproof bag was, well... not waterproof! Or maybe I hadn’t sealed it properly in the rush to get into the water again. In any case, all my gear was damp which is not good. We sealed up properly before fighting our way back to the boat where I opened everything and lay it out in the sun.

As we passed Paria I could feel heat-stroke and exhaustion starting to take over. I took back everything I’d said at the beginning: “this race is easy; I’ll do it next year with a camera ‘round my neck”... yeah right. I waved Mark passed Paria - forget it... next beach!

We swam in to Marianne beach where I’ve broken 2 surf boards in past hurricanes. By now the swell was really big and Marianne is a nasty shore-break, especially if you’re tired. I took a wave on the head, lost my bag and drank about a gallon of sea water. Some beach-goers by the parlor looked on in silence as I exited the water with my bag and walked coolly past them as if I did this every weekend and was feeling just great. I could have vomited for effect but Duane’s girlfriend, Shannon, had made it through the shore-break with us unscathed and would have looked more hardcore than me.

We jumped in a pickup heading to Marianne bridge where the first day’s race would end. Again, we got some funny looks as we turned up soaking wet in board-shorts and a binkini. I watched as some of the earlier athletes took advantage of the on-location masseuse. I was mad jealous at this. Did these people have any idea what I’d been through - move over pal, I need a back rub.

I shot a couple of racers as they crossed the finish line for the first day. Times were noted and compiled for the next day’s start at the same location. We were all only half-way and if I was feeling tired, the racers must have been exhausted.

The next day picked up where we left off. This time I moved on my own, driving my own car amongst the racers as they made their way - now on bikes - past Las Cuevas, Maracas Bay and on into town. I cut away from them and headed to Chaguaramas to meet up with another boat and the film crew.

I have to admit - I was shattered. I felt like I hadn’t slept and I vowed to do anything to stay dry on the second day. We sped out of the calm waters of the Gulf of Paria and out to Macqueripe. What a nightmare! There was easily 2 feet of chop on top of 6 feet of ground-swell. We met the first racers, now in kayaks, out there fighting a terrible battle with the sea. We later learned that a few racers were thrown from their kayaks by the rough seas; our boat wasn’t that much bigger. I did my best to get long shots of the athletes as they disappeared behind mountains of water - in the end I gave up on auto-focus completely and was thankful that I wasn’t using image stabilisation (it will make you sea-sick much faster).

Eventually we gave up shooting in rough conditions and made our way back into the gulf where the race leaders were already arriving. I spent a while shooting the kayakers against the stark island backdrops on the southern side of Gasparee Island before a dread rain fell. I figured it was time to head back in to my car to see if I could get to the finish line before the New Zealander. Not a chance!

Tropical Power put on a great show at the finish line and welcomed every competitor to an ensemble of Tassa drums and more relieving massages! By this time I was shooting like a robot. The racers themselves were crossing the finish line in a sort of stupor! But everybody managed to smile and commit to next year. I’ll be there - it’s exactly the type of photography I dream about...

To learn more about the race which takes place every year click here.