Inner Vision
How a blind runner took on the world’s harshest desert, with a little help from a friend
CHILE’S ATACAMA CROSSING IS A WEEK-LONG, 155-MILE STAGE RACE OF HIGH ALTITUDES, SEARING HEAT, PRECIPITOUS SAND DUNES AND RAZORSHARP CANYONS. THIS IS THE STORY OF HOW BLIND RUNNER VLADMI VIRGILIO AND ULTRA FIRST-TIMER ANICETO ALMEIDA FORGED A FRIENDSHIP IN HELL
TO SAY THAT ANICETO ALMEIDA WAS TIRED WOULD B E AN UNDERSTATEMENT. The 51-year- old antiques dealer from Belém, in the north of Brazil, had spent 85 days cycling across three countries to Chile’s Atacama Desert, a journey of more than 3,100 miles. He had carried only a little food and slept under a plastic tarp by the road. His journey was marked by near-misses with oncoming vehicles and he almost froze to death when a tyre blew out as he crossed the Andes. And yet this was merely the warm-up.
Almeida had traversed South America to take part in the 13th edition of the Atacama Crossing, a six-stage, 155-mile race through the driest desert on earth – 50 times more arid than California’s Death Valley – at altitudes between 2,400m and 3,200m above sea level. Not only had he spent three months on the road before the race began, but also he had never completed an ultramarathon before. And he had almost none of the mandatory race kit – the lack of which usually results in instant disqualification. Something simply drew him to the desert. ‘I just needed to get there. I was sure something was going to happen,’ he says.
At the race camp, Almeida’s arrival caused a flurry of action. Moved by his remarkable story, runners and volunteers raided their backpacks to give what they could of the race’s 35 required items, including headtorches, whistles and food. Waterproofs were gathered, spare socks unearthed and electrolyte tablets donated.
One problem remained, however. The Atacama Crossing is a partnered race, and Almeida was alone. Then someone had an idea. There was still one racer on site who was struggling to find a partner: a 47- year- old Brazilian with two previous completions under his belt. His name was Vladmi Virgilio. The only issue? Virgilio is blind. Almeida would not only have to complete the race, but also guide Virgilio through the desert. The two strangers instantly agreed and, knowing nothing of each other’s abilities or personality, set out together into the shimmering heat.
JUST DESERT The 200 or so competitors cover an average of 25 miles each day during the Atacama Crossing. The fastest recorded running time is a little under 24 hours (the clock stops when runners are resting between stages); the slowest time is 70 hours. The prize, if you can call it that, is a hearty pat on the back and a medal.
The crossing spans a distance equal to the width of Chile. On the first stage, Virgilio and Almeida navigated winding trails through open desert and towering canyons, with only the occasional pink flag or strip of reflective tape to mark the route. Temperatures ranged from
35C in the day to freezing at night, when respite came at the fixed camps. Here, runners gathered around the fire to coax some warmth back into their weary bones and ease their aching joints. Checkpoints are six miles apart. At each, the athletes received a single spray of water to the face, which would evaporate in 20 seconds.
‘ The desert sucks the water out of you,’ says photographer Thiago Diz. ‘ Mentally, it’s a killer. It’s not just focusing on the horizon and running. You need to look at every single step you take.’ Or, in Virgilio’s case, trust your guide to do so. ‘The slower you are, the more pounded you get by the sun,’ says Diz. ‘ Runners set out at 7am. The fast ones get back at noon, but others not until 5pm.’
Diz has covered the race four times, including both of Virgilio’s previous completions in 2013 and 2014, and the two have become friends. It was Diz who helped to pair Almeida and Virgilio. Virgilio had arrived with the intention of racing alone, but the officials deemed it too dangerous and, in any event, the rules state that competitors must start in a pair and end in a pair. All hope of competing seemed lost – before Almeida came cycling out of the swirling desert dust, like a mirage.
INTO THE INFERNO ‘ I came to Atacama to show that even though I’m visually impaired, I can still overcome all of the obstacles the desert imposes,’ says Virgilio. He has been blind for 13 years, having lost his sight at the age of 34 to exudative macular degeneration, in which abnormal blood vessels form in the eye, causing rapid deterioration. He also suffers from Ménière’s disease, a progressive ear condition that causes intense episodes of vertigo and hearing loss.
Virgilio now dedicates his life to sport. He has completed marathons across Europe and crossed the Sahara and the Gobi desert, as well as setting a world record in 2016 for the longest run without a guide (43 miles). ‘When I run, it is a moment of pleasure, joy and freedom. I feel where I am by smelling and feeling the wind and the ground. I perceive my environment in a new way,’ he says. ‘I have managed to transform sadness into happiness.’
In preparation for his third Atacama, Virgilio spared himself no pain. He broke his training routine into three parts: strength training; three- to
‘ WHEN I RUN, I T IS A MOMENT OF PLEASURE, JOY AND FREEDOM’
four-hour runs; and elevation training, in which he ran 100 times up and down the stairs of his 14-floor building, four times a week. Almeida, meanwhile, may have been a novice, but his epic journey to the start line had honed – and demonstrated – his fitness. In theory, they were prepared to tackle the desert. The reality, however, was somewhat di f ferent . ‘ Almeida wa s ver y inexperienced,’ explains Diz. ‘ Early in the race, he thought he was carrying too much weight, so he threw a lot of his food away.’
The second stage of the race begins with a short run, deep inside a river canyon, followed be multiple river crossings. After that, the route descends into old mining tunnels, from which the runners emerge onto energy-sapping sand dunes. Guiding a blind man through such uneven terrain proved difficult for Almeida. A guide not only has to keep an eye on the rock in front of him, but also has to pre-empt where his charge’s feet will land. It can be mentally exhausting, even more so when fatigue and sunstroke set in. For the novice Almeida, having just completed a 3,100mile journey of his own, the feat proved almost impossible.
‘ I ended up having to fight with Almeida’s fatigue as well as my own,’ explains Virgilio. ‘After a certain point, exhaustion and lack of experience, both in guiding a visually impaired person and in races of this nature, made him stop telling me about the obstacles on the terrain. I was kicking stones and stepping on thorns that went through my shoes. I sprained my ankles numerous times.’
With days of toil ahead of them, Virgilio decided to tie a short rope from Almeida’s backpack to his own hand, so that he could walk behind his guide and
feel the movement of his body. When Almeida shifted his position to avoid an object, Virgilio would sense it and instinctively do likewise.
RUNNING ON EMPTY The third stage of the crossing is where many competitors hang up their trainers. The route descends rapidly over dried-out salt lakes complemented by fist- sized hunks of brittle, shoe-piercing shale. Nonetheless, the two men pushed on, battling their weariness to reach the campsite.
After the fourth stage, they reached two small lagoons. Here, competitors could wash for the first time in days – a welcome respite ahead of the hardest stretch yet. The fifth stage is known as ‘ The Long March’. At this point, Almeida’s decision to dispense with so much of his food proved to have been a bad one. ‘He had almost none left,’ says Diz. With their bodies running on empty, the two men faced a gruelling 47-mile slog to the final camp – almost a double marathon on top of the four already completed. Conserving water was crucial. The men reached their camp at 11pm, 14 hours after they set off.
The last effort, on day six, is a 10K sprint through the desert to the finish line in the town square of San Pedro de Atacama, 2,408m above sea level. With little left to fuel them except adrenaline and willpower, Virgilio and Almeida struggled through, still bound by their length of rope, crossing the line in a total time of 48 hours and 34 minutes.
The winning team, led by US runner Alexander Mangold, finished almost 20 hours ahead of them. But for Virgilio and Almeida the finish time was never the objective. Both men had arrived at the start line doubtful, but hopeful of their ability to take part. And both had earned their finisher’s medals.
Despite the setbacks and struggles along the way, Virgilio was inspired by Almeida’s dedication. ‘ The effort he made to get here made me feel stronger than ever,’ he says. ‘I knew it would be hard due to his lack of experience in ultramarathons, but we were united in our objective of simply completing the race. We just focused on that.’
Virgilio has not yet decided on his next challenge, but a return to Atacama seems inevitable. ‘ Life is much more than being able to see with your eyes’ he says. ‘I’ve learned to see the world in a different way, a more beautiful way. This is what I search for in these races. I’m not after titles and records. The Atacama Crossing is an event that gives me back my dignity as a human being. In this race, I am a person no different to anyone else. In the desert, I feel invincible.’
‘ WITH THEIR BODIES RUNNING ON EMPTY, THE TWO MEN FACED A GRUELLING 47- MILE SLOG TO THE FINAL CAMP’