NIGHT-O

All Controls On Light Poles

Debbie Dodd (DR-V)

It’s 6.30pm on a cold, dark winter Wednesday evening, somewhere in the suburbs of Melbourne. In the corner of the car park of a shopping centre, sports ground or railway station, a small group is gathering. Objects appear out of car boots - tables, chairs, notice boards, parking signs, flags, a beeper clock, pens and cards. Stan and Sue arrive, and begin setting up the urn for tea, coffee and soup.

IT’S been raining on and off during the afternoon, but as often happens at this time of day, the showers have cleared and a half moon appears from behind the clouds. Orienteers’ cars are trickling in, against the tide of departing commuters or shoppers picking up last minute grocery items. The aroma of pizza wafts from a nearby takeaway.

The course setter arrives, clutching a bundle of maps. It’s his first time course setting, and he casts an anxious eye over the gathering crowd. Has he printed enough copies? Attendances have settled at about 100 now that the colder weather has set in, but a spell of mild evenings earlier in the season saw numbers swell to over 150. This afternoon’s showers might deter some tonight, but orienteers are a hardy breed, and most will turn up regardless of the weather.

It’s the beginning of the winter Iceberg series, and the name is appropriate. Fleece jackets, gloves and beanies abound. Competitors swing their arms and stamp their feet. Fingers are almost too numb to write names on control cards. Small groups cluster around the sample map; others chat about the previous weekend’s events. Everyone agrees that it’s TOO COLD and they should really be at home.

By 6:55, the car park is full. Layers of clothing are reluctantly shed. Head torches are adjusted, and reflective vests or ankle bands put on. Watches are checked against the beeper clock’s bright red digital display. Some runners are warming up - stretching and slowly jogging. Some are still catching up with friends.

Time for the briefing. Series coordinator Peter Yeates reminds everyone that railway lines must not be crossed other than at designated crossings. Organisers consider competitor and public safety to be paramount; brightly coloured clothing is strongly encouraged, lighting at the start/ finish is provided, and course setters must ensure that their courses do not lead competitors through unlit parks or schools, or across busy roads without traffic or pedestrian lights nearby. Map quality is important too – with limited visibility, there needs to be a good contrast between black, white and grey areas.

Seven pm. Maps are handed out face down, and the official time is announced. “Go!” cries the course setter, and they’re off! Runners and walkers alike hesitate for a few seconds as they briefly study the map, then peer group pressure takes over and they disappear into the darkness, the slower planners hurrying to catch up to their rivals. Like all night series events, this is a Score format with 20 controls on the map. There are three cut-off times for runners - 40, 50 or 60 minutes - and power walkers have until 8:05 to return. All the control plates have been chained to light poles. Some illumination makes punching easier and quicker.

In daylight, it is much easier to plan an overall strategy from the outset. At night, the only light comes from a small torch beam or a street lamp. The usual method of attack is to find the nearest control, then the next, and the next - hoping that you made the right choice in those few seconds at the start, and that you can time your return correctly.

The cold is soon forgotten as your heart rate accelerates. Numb fingers and toes warm up quickly. The crisp air is invigorating. There is too much going on in both mind and body to be concerned about the

chill; the focus switches to rapid decision making. Route choice is all that matters now.

As you get further out on the map, you meet fewer and fewer competitors, until you start to wonder if you have made a serious error. Then at about the half-way mark, you suddenly see a steady stream of bobbing torch beams, all heading to the same control. Reassured, you press on, the body tiring but the brain working overtime, calculating and re-calculating distances, times, and points. Does the angle of that street cut off enough distance to compensate for the three contours you have to climb? If you get that 3-pointer control now, will you still have time for the 5-pointer later on? All that rapid thinking on the move certainly blows away the cobwebs that have built up over a day cooped up indoors. You look at your watch for what seems like the thousandth time. As you finally sprint across the car park to the finish table, you hear the beeps, but it’s OK, you still have a minute to spare. Pity you missed that last control though. If only you’d gone west at the start instead of north …

The chilly air cools you down almost instantly - time to find warm clothes and grab a mug of soup. Thank goodness for the Gurmans - it wouldn’t be the same without a hot drink at the finish from Stanley’s Steamer. Your rivals cluster around, eager to find out where you went and how many points you amassed. You shrug off your minor mistakes - after all, there’s another event just around the corner. You’ll do even better next week.

Gradually the car park empties. Some head off for dinner together; some grab pizza from the takeaway; some set out to collect the controls; others just head on home. “See you next week!” is the cry. “Yeah - see you then!” We’ll all be back. Wouldn’t miss it for the world! (Ed – attendances even in the depths of winter are averaging over 100 per event.)

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